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THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


BY 


MARIE   SOPHIE    SCHWARTZ. 


front 


SELMA  BORG  AND  MARIE  A.   BROWN. 


BOSTON: 

LEE  AND   SHEPAED,   PUBLISHEES. 
NEW  YORK: 

LEE,  SHEPARD,   AND  DILLINGHAM, 
47  &  49  GREENE  STREET. 

1871. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1871, 

BY     LEE    AND     SHEPABD, 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


UNIVERSITY  PRESS  :  WELCH,  BIGELOW,  &  Ca, 
CAMBRIDGE. 


PT 


Wb3 
THE  WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


THE  BETROTHED. 

THE  Spring  sun  shone  clear  and  glo- 
rious upon  Holmvik,  the  stately  domain 
belonging  to  Count  Arthur  Rubens.  Two 
young  girls  stood  on  the  balcony,  one 
about  nineteen,  the  other  sixteen  years 
of  age,  and  were  looking  down  the  ave- 
nue. It  was  plain  to  perceive  that  they 
expected  some  one. 

"  Admit,  Ellen,  that  it  is  very  strange 
that  they  stay  so  long  at  church,"  said 
Frb'ken*  Ebba  Rubens,  the  Count's  daugh- 
ter. 

"  Yes,  it  is  past  three  o'clock,"  replied 
Ellen  Kahn,  a  daughter  of  Countess  Ru- 
bens's  friend,  Fru  Kahn,  who  at  her  death 
had  confided  the  daughter  and  her  prop- 
erty to  the  care  of  the  Count  and  Count- 
ess. Count  Rubens  was  consequently 
the  young  girl's  guardian. 

"  Do  you  think  that  anything  has  hap- 
pened to  them1?  Perhaps  the  horses 
have  run  away !  "  exclaimed  Ebba,  with 
childish  anxiety. 

"0  no,  Aunt  and  Uncle  have  probably 
gone  up  to  Lb'da.  Hark  !  do  you  hear  1 
They  are  coming  now  !  "  Ellen's  cheeks 
glowed  when  Ebba  exclaimed,  — 

"Yes,  there  they  are  turning  into  the 
avenue,  and  Evert  of  Ochard  rides  be- 
side the  carriage." 

Ebba  tripped  away  light  as  a  bird  to 
meet  them ;  but  Ellen  remained  on  the 
balcony,  with  her  gaze  directed  toward 
the  advancing  carriage,  at  the  left  side  of 
.•which  a  young  man  was  riding.  The 
roses  came  and  went  on  her  cheeks. 
*  Aristocratic  title  for  "Miss." 


Before  we  go  further  we  ought  to  de- 
scribe in  a  few  words  our  heroine's  appear- 
ance. Ellen  was  tall,  with  a  frame  at 
once  slight  and  yet  luxuriant.  It  might 
be  said  that  the  waist  was  too  small  for 
the  full  bosom,  and  the  well-rounded 
shoulders  made  a  strong  contrast  to  the 
almost  humble,  swan-like  way  in  which 
she  carried  herself.  One  would  have  ex- 
pected this  well-developed  chest  to  have 
a  neck  supporting  the  seat  of  thought 
with  queenly  confidence.  As  it  was,  the 
young  girl  resembled  a  straight  and 
slender  tree,  whose  rich  crown  bent  be- 
neath the  weight  of  its  foliage.  When, 
the  look  fell  on  Ellen's  brow,  it  seemed 
natural  that  the  neck  should  not  be 
able  to  support  the  full  weight  of  this 
broad,  high,  and  dreamy  forehead  that 
rested  so  musingly  over  a  pair  of  large 
deep  blue  eyes,  —  eyes  which  overspread 
the  whole  face  with  their  clear  heaven. 
The  nose  was  fine  and  slightly  arched, 
the  mouth  small  and  seriously  closed, 
but  when  it  sometimes  opened  with  a 
smile  it  revealed  two  rows  of  snow-white 
teeth.  The  complexion  was  pale,  yet  it 
did  not  have  the  transparent  whiteness 
that  is  peculiar  to  blondes,  but  seemed 
firm  and  soft  as  velvet.  Her  hair  was 
dark  brown,  almost  black,  rich,  smooth, 
and* lustrous.  The  whole  could  undeni- 
ably receive  the  name  of  beautiful,  but 
there  was  a  shadow  resting  over  it  which 
took  away  the  youthful  bloom  and  radi- 
ance that  is  wont  to  characterize  girls  of 
her  age.  It  was  as  when  a  cloud  inter- 
cepts the  sun ;  one  sees  its  rays  break 
forth,  but  yet  the  cloud  casts  its  shadow 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN    MAN. 


over  the  landscape.  So  with  Ellen  ;  one 
fancied  that  such  a  cloud  obscured  all 
the  life  and  fire  which  ought  to  have 
beamed  from  these  eyes,  now  smiling  with 
so  mild  and  thoughtful  an  expression. 
Sometimes  it  seemed  as  though  the 
young  girl's  soul  yet  slumbered,  and  as  if 
she  had  not  awakened  to  the  full  con- 
sciousness of  the  powers  that  dwelt  with- 
in her.  It  was  life,  feeling,  and  emotion 
that  were  wanting  in  her  features,  and 
this  deficiency  often  gave  them  some- 
thing expressionless  and  monotonous; 
for  one  always  found  there  the  same  se- 
riousness, the  same  thoughtfulness,  the 
same  gentle  smile,  but  never  any  vivac- 

ity. 

When  the  Count's  carriage  stopped  be- 
neath the  balcony,  and  the  rider  swung 
himself  from  his  horse  to  offer  the  Count- 
ess his  arm  and  conduct  her  up  the  steps, 
Ellen  went  into  the  saloon.  She  had 
entered  it  with  a  certain  slowness,  as  if 
irresolute;  but  when  the  Countess  was 
seen  at  the  door,  she  hastened  gladly  to- 
wards her,  saying  with  her  mild,  serious 
smil£,  — 

"  How  long  you  stayed,  Aunt ! " 

Countess  Emy  Rubens,  a  stately,  fine- 
looking  woman  of  about  forty,  with  a 
well-preserved  beauty  and  a  proud,  noble 
bearing,  embraced  the  young  girl  lov- 
ingly. 

"  We  were  detained  by  the  Kerners. 
But  here  I  stand  and  bar  the  way  to 
one  who  is  extremely  impatient  to  see 
you  again  after  a  separation  of  three 
whole  days." 

"  An  eternity  for  a  lover,"  added  Count 
Rubens,  who  also  entered,  followed  by 
Ebba  and  a  twelve-year-old  heir  to.  his 
name. 

Ellen  hastened  to  greet  the  Count,  and 
allowed  the  young  man  to  stand  there 
waiting.  Finally  she  offered  him  her 
hand  with  downcast  eyes  and  a  deep 
color  in  her  cheeks. 

Justice  Evert  of  Ochard  had  been  be- 
trothed to  Ellen  three  months.  It  was 


considered,  and  rightly,  as  a  marriage  of 
love,  at  least  on  the  young  girl's  side,  for 
the  Justice  was  without  property. 

The  son  of  an  old  medical  counsellor 
with  four  children,  Evert  had  no  pros- 
pects of  an  inheritance.  Ellen,  on  the 
contrary,  was  a  very  wealthy  girl,  and 
even  at  the  age  of  seventeen  could  have 
chosen  a  husband  from  some  of  the 
higher  families ;  but  the  noble  suitors 
did  not  seem  to  please  the  young  girl, 
while  Evert,  on  the  other  hand,  had 
awakened  her  interest  at  their  first 
meeting,  which  occurred  at  Count  Ru- 
bens's  in  Stockholm  a  year  and  a  half 
before. 

The  Justice's  father  had  been  Count 
Rubens's  family  physician  for  more  than 
thirty  years,  and  the  son  was  therefore 
treated  with  especial  favor  by  Count  Ar- 
thur, who  invited  him  to  spend  the  sum- 
mer at  Holmvik.  The  daily  intercourse 
did  not  diminish  her  fancy  for  Evert, 
and  when  the  family  again  passed  the 
winter  in  the  capital,  no  one  doubted 
that  the  Justice  would  be  her  choice. 
Their  betrothal  was  celebrated  in  the 
month  of  March,  so  that  Ellen  returned 
to  Holmvik  as  &  fiancee. 

The  Justice  had  been  away  in  the 
neighborhood  for  two  or  three  days,  and 
now,  after  this  long  separation,  returned 
to  Holmvik  with  the  noble  family. 

Countess  Emy  had  observed  Ellen 
when  the  young  lover  greeted  his  be- 
trothed, and  a  shadow  passed  over  her 
face  when  she  sought  in  vain  for  a  trace 
of  lively  joy  in  her  daughter's  calm 
features.  Emy  turned  away  and  sighed. 

"  Ah,  Ellen,"  whispered  Evert,  "  it 
looks  as  if  you  did  not  feel  the  pain  of 
this  short  and  yet  long  absence  as  much 
as  I." 

"  And  why  do  you  think  so  1 " 

"With  a  heart  beating  with  impa- 
tience have  I  been  compelled  to  wait  for 
a  greeting  from  you  whom  I  love  so 
deeply." 

"  Forgive  me  !  "  Ellen  offered  him  her 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


brow  to  kiss,  "  but  do  not  doubt  my 
affection  or  the  warmth  of  my  feelings, 
even  if  my  manner  seems  cold.  It  is  a 
peculiarity  with  me  never  to  clothe  what 
I  feet  in  words." 

"  Not  even  to  give  your  glance  an 
expression  of  what  your  heart  experi- 
ences." One  could  tell  by  his  voice  that 
he  felt  dissatisfied. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  my  eyes  say ; 
I  only  know  what  my  heart  feels." 

"  And  you  are  convinced  that  this 
heart  loves  me  1 " 

"  Can  you  doubt  it  1 " 

Evert's  answer  failed  to  come,  for  the 
announcement  of  dinner  left  no  time  for 
it.  He  hastened  to  conduct  the  Count- 
ess to  the  table. 


In  the  afternoon  the  whole  family 
were  assembled  in  the  stately  pavilion, 
the  glass  doors  of  which  were  open,  and 
they  sat  in  a  saloon  filled  with  the  fra- 
grance of  flowers,  while  the  glorious  sum- 
mer breeze  streamed  through  it,  diffusing 
a  balmy  exhalation  from  the  blooming 
lindens.  Through  an  opening  in  the 
park,  far  in  the  distance,  the  blue 
boundless  ocean  could  be  seen. 

Ebba  played  a  wild  galop  on  the  piano. 
Emy  was  conversing  with  the  Justice  in 
a  low  tone,  and  Ellen  sat  in  an  easy-chair, 
with  her  gaze  directed  towards  the  sea. 
Her  whole  appearance  indicated  complete 
abstraction.  She  seemed  to  have  for- 
gotten everything  around  her  and  to  be 
absorbed  in  dreams. 

"  I  fear,"  said  Countess  Emy  to  the 
Justice,  "  that  a  longer  study  of  Ellen's 
character  and  peculiarities  is  required 
than  that  afforded  by  a  six  months'  en- 
gagement, if  you  would  not  risk  both 
her  future  and  your  own ;  therefore  I 
consider  it  wisest  for  you  to  postpone 
your  marriage  another  year." 

"Is  it  Ellen's  cause  that  you  are  now 
pleading]  Is  it  she  who  desires  this 


postponement  1 "  asked  Evert,  in  a  some- 
what resentful  voice. 

"  No,  my  friend.  Had  Ellen  desired 
to  postpone  your  union,  she  would  have 
told  you  so  herself,  without  taking  the 
roundabout  way  of  asking  me  to  do  it. 
There  again  is  a  proof  that  you  do  not 
know  your  betrothed,  when  you  do  not 
even  comprehend  the  most  prominent 
trait  in  her  character,  namely,  her  un- 
common frankness." 

' "  In  truth  I  cannot  think  that  you 
are  right ;  for  to  me  Ellen  appears  re- 
served, often  impossible  to  comprehend." 

"But  say,  have  you  ever  heard  an 
untrue  word  pass  those  serious  lips  1 
Are  not  all  her  answers  so  frank  that 
one  sometimes  becomes  confused  ? " 

"  That  I  admit,  so  much  the  more  as 
it  was  just  this  which  captivated  me  ; 
but  if  I  now  went  to  Ellen  and  asked 
her,  'What  are  you  thinking  of?'  what 
do  you  imagine  she  would  answer  1 " 

"  She  would  give  you  her  hand,  smile 
and  say,  "  Forgive  me,  but  it  is  impossi- 
ble for  me  to  explain  my  thoughts  to 
you.'" 

"Yes,  that  would  certainly  be  her 
reply.  But  what  then  is  she  thinking 
of  ]  It  is  not  of  me  at  least ;  not  of  me, 
whom  she  says  she  loves,  and  who 
adores  her.  What  then  can  it  be  1  When 
we  love,  the  object  of  our  love  is  also  the 
object  of  all  our  thoughts,  dreams,  and 
feelings." 

"  You  are  right,  and  therefore  I  say, 
Ellen  is  an  enigma  which  you  need  time 
to  solve,  and  before  you  solve  it  you 
ought  not  to  unite  yourself  to  her  in- 
dissolubly." 

"  No,  Aunt,  when  Ellen  becomes  my 
wife,  then  is  the-  enigma  solved,  and 
these  vague  reveries  will  vanish  before 
the  mate's  love." 

Company  was  now  announced,  and  the 
next  moment  Count  Oscar  Kerner  and 
the  Countess  Sappho  entered.  The  ap- 
pearance of  both  indicated  peace  and 
happiness.  After  them  came  Frb'ken  Alma 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


Kerner,  their  daughter,  aged  fifteen, 
accompanied  by  a  young  man  of  about 
twenty-eight  and  a  Lieutenant  Henrico. 
They  were  welcomed  in  the  heartiest 
manner,  and  Count  Oscar  introduced  the 
young  man  to  Emy. 

"  Allow  me,  dear  Emy,"  said  he,  "  to 
make  you  acquainted  with  my  cousin, 
Count  Uno  Kerner,  the  son  of  my  uncle, 
the  envoy  to  Spain.  Born  and  brought 
up  in  that  country,  he  has  now  for  the 
first  time  seen  his  fatherland.  He  is 
thus  to  be  regarded  more  as  a  Spaniard 
than  a  Swede,  especially  as  his  mother 
was  Spanish." 

Emy  and  Arthur  bade  the  young  man 
a  cordial  welcome  in  French,  but  Count 
Uno  replied  in  Swedish,  — 

"  My  father  has  preserved  too  lively  a 
love  for  the  soil  of  his  forefathers  to 
allow  his  son  to  grow  up  as  a  stranger  to 
the  land  which  he  will  always  regard  and 
love  as  his  fatherland,  and  at  this  mo- 
ment I  feel  doubly  proud  of  it  when  I 
stand  in  the  midst  of  my  noble  rela- 
tives." 

Emy  presented  to  him  the  Justice, 
Ellen,  and  her  children;  Uno's  glance 
tarried  a  second  on  Ellen,  and  then  rested 
upon  Ebba's  fresh  and  animated  face, 
where  joy  and  innocence  beamed  in  every 
feature.  The  maiden  of  sixteen  was  a 
beautiful  and  living  image  of  Spring. 

In  a  short  time  Baron  G s  arrived 

with  a  whole  troop  of  young  people, 
beside  Pastor  Wendborg  with  his  wife 
and  two  sons. 

Ellen,  who  was  quite  hastily  snatched 
from  her  dreams,  was  now  obliged,  as  the 
eldest,  to  be  the  hostess  to  the  youthful 
portion,  assisted  by  Ebba  and  the 
Justice. 

The  young  people  had  been  dancing, 
and  now  went  out  doors  to  rest  and  de- 
vise some  games. 

The  Justice  proposed  one  which  con- 
sisted in  each  person's  being  presented 
v/ith  a  flower,  a  word,  or  any  article,  and 
all  those  who  received  anything  were  to 


recite  something  appropriate  or  tell  a 
story.  Ebba  went  around  and  whispered 
to  those  participating  in  the  game  the 
name  of  the  object  which  she  gave 
them.  When  they  had  each  received 
something,  the  first  one,  who  was  Count- 
ess Kerner,  mentioned  what  had  been 
bestowed  upon  her,  namely,  a  white  rose, 
and  then  added  a  very  neat  verse  over 
it.  So  it  went  around  the  circle,  and 
each  one  had  given  a  more  or  less  appro- 
priate motto  for  what  they  had  obtained. 
It  now  became  Count  Uno's  turn. 

"I  received  the  words,  'my  father- 
land,' "  whereupon  he  added  a  verse. 

Ellen  came  last.  The  young  girl  had 
sat  absorbed  in  thought  the  whole  time, 
not  following  the  course  of  the  game, 
until  Ebba  cried  :  "  Well,  Ellen,  what 
have  you  to  say  about  your  '  memory.'  " 
Ellen  rose  with  a  completely  absent  look, 
and  slowly  stroked  away  her  hair ;  then 
she  went  to  Countess  Emy.  With  a 
strangely  sweet  and  melodious  voice  she 
improvised  a  little  poem  over  the  word. 
It  was  as  if  the  beautiful  poetic  words 
had  floated  over  her  lips  without  her 
being  aware  of  it.  The  wild  mirth  which 
had  greeted  all  previous  verses  was 
stilled,  and  they  listened,  mute  and  sur- 
prised. The  revelation  was  so  rare,  that 
most  of  the  company  took  for  granted 
that  Ellen  had  recited  a  poem  learned  by 
rote  ;  but  the  more  clear-sighted  per- 
ceived plainly  that  the  words  issued  from 
her  own  heart,  for  they  were  addressed 
to  Emy  and  related  to  the  sweet  memo- 
ries of  Ellen's  childhood  and  the  mother 
she  had  lost. 

When  she  ceased,  she  remained  before 
Emy  with  the  dreamy  gaze  fastened 
upon  her,  and  completely  unmindful  of 
the  fact  that  she  was  in  the  midst  of  so 
many  people. 

"  Thanks,  my  child,"  said  Emy  gently, 
and  rising  she  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her 
foster-daughter's  brow.  The  Countess's 
words  broke  the  silence,  and  Ellen  soon 
saw  herself  surrounded  and  overwhelmed 


THE   WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


with  praise  from  all  sides.  The  sound 
of  it  freed  her  from  the  spell  under  which 
her  soul  had  been  bound.  She  blushed 
and  bent  down  her  head  with  such  a  shy 
motion,  that  one  saw  plainly  how  much 
she  desired  to  escape  all  this  attention. 

Emy,  who  perceived  Ellen's  embarrass- 
ment, and  knew  full  well  the  peculiarity 
of  her  disposition,  hastened  to  turn  the 
attention  from  her  by  proposing  a  walk. 
During  the  promenade  Count  Uno  had 
offered  Emy  his  arm  and  asked,  — 

"Were  the  verses  which  the  young 
lady  recited  composed  by  herself  for  the 
occasion  or  by  some  one  else  ? " 

"They  were  not  composed  at  all," 
replied  Emy,  smiling.  "Ellen  has  the 
fortune,  or  misfortune,  whichever  you 
will,  of  being  an  improvisatrice.  This 
comes  from  an  over-excited  fancy,  which 
I  try  to  counteract,  but  cannot  succeed 
in  overcoming." 

"  It  is  a  singular  condition,  which  one 
seldom  finds,  except  with  the  fiery  peo- 
ple of  the  South.  But  -allow  me  to  make 
an  objection  :  a  person  improvises  who 
receives  a  theme  quite  unexpectedly  and 
immediately  composes  a  poem  upon  it." 

"Well,  I  fancy  that  Ellen  did  some- 
thing similar  to  this  just  now." 

"  In  a  certain  sense,  yes ;  but  she  had, 
however,  nearly  half  an  hour  in  which  to 
think  out  these  four  or  five  verses." 

"  If  I  did  not  make  it  a  rule  to  give  as 
little  nourishment  and  exercise  as  possi- 
ble to  this  natural  proclivity  of  Ellen's,  I 
would  ask  you,  my  cousin,  to  give  her  a 
subject,  and  you  would  with  surprise 
hear  her  improvise  upon  it." 

"Ah!  make  an  exception  and  allow 
me  to  witness  a  marvel  which  I  have 
certainly  heard  spoken  of,  but  never  be- 
lieved in." 

"  Not  this  evening.  I  should  not  be 
able  to  prevail  upon  her  to  do  it,  sur- 
rounded by  all  these  wondering  eyes." 

"  But  she  improvised  awhile  ago." 

"  Ah,  my  cousin,  then  she  had  forgot- 
ten that  there  were  several  here  besides 


herself  and  me.  You  doubt.  If  you, 
like  me,  had  known  this  singular  nature 
from  childhood,  you  would  doubt  no 
longer.  I  promise  that  you  shall  have  a 
proof  of  her  talent  to-morrow  ;  for  I  pre- 
sume you  will  stay  with  us  a  few  days 
with  the  Kerners,  as  they  promised." 


All  the  company  had  departed,  with  the 
exception  of  the  Kerners,  who  had  now 
gone  to  their  rooms.  Emy  and  Ellen 
were  alone  in  the  saloon. 

The  latter  had  thrown  her  arms  around 
the  Countess's  neck  and  leaned  her  head 
against  hers. 

"  Ellen,  you  are  unhappy  this  evening." 

"Yes!  a  peculiar  disquietude  comes 
over  me  when  I  forget  myself  as  I  have 
done  this  evening,  and  allow  fancy  to 
carry  me  away  without  being  able  to 
restrain  my  transport."  ' 

"And  I  believed  that  this  transport 
made  you  happy." 

"For  the  moment,  yes;  but  after- 
wards, afterwards  I  stand  there  so  alone, 
and  I  feel  such  a  void  in  my  heart." 

"  A  void  in  your  heart,  now  when  you 
love?" 

"  Ah,  yes ;  who  besides  you  understands 
Ellen1?  Why  am  I  not  like  others  at 
my  age  1 "  Ellen  sighed. 

"  Because  God  has  at  once  endowed 
you  more  richly  and  more  poorly  than 
others.  But  do  you  know,  my  child,  I 
am  afraid  that  your  fancy,  not  your 
heart,  loves  Evert.  Consider,  Ellen,  if 
you  should  one  day  discover  that  you 
had  mistaken  your  feeling  for  him,  and 
you  were  then  forever  bound  to  a  man 
whom  you  did  not  love." 

"  I  have  examined  my  heart,  and  this 
examination  has  shown  me  that  I  am 
attached  to  Evert  with  a  true  and  sin- 
cere affection." 

"Affection?"  repeated  Emy. 

"Yes,  that  is  the  right  word.  I  have 
never  been  able  to  comprehend  those 


8 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


violent  impressions,  those  surging  feelings 
which  are  called  love.  That  which  at- 
taches me  to  Evert  is,  as  I  have  just 
said,  a  true  and  deep  affection.  Believe 
me,  my  fancy  has  usurped  too  large  a 
place  in  my  soul  for  my  heart  to  enter- 
tain any  powerful  passion.  Besides,  the 
education  which  you  and  my  mother 
have  given  me  has  been  calculated  to 
repress  all  extremes.  In  the  calm  circle 
in  which  I  have  lived  there  has  been 
nothing  to  fire  my  feelings.  How  piti- 
able should  I  not  be  if  passion  had 
gained  a  foothold  in  my  breast  and  be- 
come the  leader  of  my  imagination  ! " 

"  God  grant,  Ellen,  that  you  now 
judge  yourself  rightly,  and  that  the 
liveliness  of  feeling  which  your  mother 
and  I  tried  to  abate  may  not  again  be 
awakened  in  your  breast." 

"No,  you  have  placed  a  watchman 
over  my  passions  that  will  always  control 
and  direct  them,  and  which  will  make 
me  bear  the  trials  that  are  sent  me  with 
courage  and  trust ;  this  watchman  is  the 
fear  of  God." 

Emy  embraced  the  young  girl  with 
emotion  and  whispered,  — 

"  Thanks,  my  Ellen  for  these  words." 


The  next  morning  Ebba  came  in  to 
Ellen  while  she  was  dressing. 

"Well,  how  do  you  like  Count  Uno?" 
inquired  Ebba.  "I  had  no  chance  to 
speak  to  you  last  night,  and  I  could 
scarcely  go  to  sleep,  only  because  you 
had  not  told  me  what  you  thought  of 
him." 

"  How  childish  you  are,  Ebba !  To 
think  of  such  trifles  when  you  go  to 
sleep ! " 

"Ah,  I  know  well  enough  what  you 
mean  to  say.  You  think  that  I  forgot  to 
say  my  prayers.  No,  certainly  not ;  but 
you  see,  Ellen,  I  never  know  what  I 
ought  to  think  of  a  person  until  you 
have  told  me  your  opinion." 


"  And  yet  we  so  often  think  different- 

iy." 

"  That  comes  from  the  fact  that  you 
think  more  of  what  is  serious,  even  tire- 
some, and  I  of  what  is  cheerful  and 
pleasant ;  but  still,  I  can  never  get  a 
definite  idea  of  a  person  before  I  know 
your  impressions.  Now  tell  me,  what  do 
you  think  of  his  appearance  ] " 

"  Not  much.  I  could  almost  say  that 
he  is  ugly." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  dreadfully  ugly." 

"  Now  you  go  to  the  extreme,  Ebba," 
returned  Ellen,  smiling. 

"  Dear  me,  is  it  an  extreme  to  call  a 
person  ugly  who  has  copper-colored  skin 
and  blue-black  hair,  a  nose  hooked  like  a 
bird's  bill,  a  mouth,  which  ought  to  be 
called  '  Ginungagap  '  —  " 

"  B\it  with  beautiful  teeth  and  a  pleas- 
ant smile." 

"  And  eyes  like  portholes  with  can- 
nons' mouths  in  them." 

"  The  eyes  are  black,  intelligent,  and 
mild." 

"  Yes  beautiful !  to  me  he  seems  like  a 
negro." 

"  A  negro  with  an  aquiline  nose  1 " 

"  Well,  why  not  1  have  n't  negroes  the 
right  to  have  aquiline  noses  1  I  would 
just  like  to  know  what  should  hinder 
them.  But  we  will  not  talk  any  more 
about  his  looks,  for  if  I  go  on,  then,"  — 
Ebba  began  to  laugh,  —  "  then  you  will 
lecture  me  and  say,  '  Good  God,  Ebba, 
how  foolish  yoii  are  ! ' ' 

"  That  might  all  happen,"  said  Ellen, 
also  laughing. 

"Yes,  it  is  pretty  certain.  But  we 
ought  not  to  judge  people  by  their  ap- 
pearance," added  Ebba,  quite  seriously ; 
"  no  one  is  to  blame  for  being  ugly,  and 
I  am  real  wicked  to  laugh  at  those  who 
are." 

"Therefore  we  will  speak  no  more 
about  the  Count's  appearance." 

"No,  as  we  cannot  make  him  any 
handsomer.  But  it  is  so  pleasant  to  see 
those  who  are  beautiful.  0,  how  I 


THE   WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


love  to  look  at  Alma  Kerner.  She  is  so 
lovely  ! "  said  Ebba,  clapping  her  hands 
with  delight. 

"And  good  and  amiable." 

"  Yes,  she  is  not  such  a  giddy  pate  as 
I.  But  you  like  me  for  all  that  ? "  Ebba 
leaned  her  head  to  one  side  and  looked  at 
Ellen. 

"  Very,  very  much." 

"  More  than  your  betrothed  1 " 

"  Not  more,  but  as  much." 
^  "  Good  !  but  now  tell  me  how  did  that 
ugly  Uno  appear  to  you  ? " 

"  It  seemed  to  me  that  he  had  an 
agreeable  manner,  spoke  well,  and  looked 
good." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  right ;  but  you  see 
I  don't  like  him  at  all.  Yes,  do  you 
know,  Ellen,  I  was  real  angry  with  him, 
and  had  such  bad  feelings  when  I  went 
to  bed,  that  I  was  fairly  afraid  of  myself." 

"  But  for  what  cause  1 " 

"  I  know  well  enough." 

"  Then  tell  me  what  it  is." 

"  Well,  Ellen,  he  thought  that  you  re- 
cited a  piece  when  you  improvised,  and 
it  provoked  me,  and  then  I  heard  him 
say  to  Henrico  that  you  had  a  soulless 
expression.  Fie  !  how  wicked  the  person 
must  be  who  could  speak  so  of  you  !  To 
be  soulless  is  not  to  be  good  ;  and  you, 
you  are  certainly  good  if  any  one  is." 

"  Ah,  Ebba  darling,  now  your  feelings 
are  running  away  with  you  again  ;  you  are 
much  more  wicked  in  getting  angry  with 
him  than  he  is  in  simply  expressing  his 
opinion  about  a  person's  looks."  Ellen 
had  not  time  to  say  more,  for  the  door 
opened  and  a  curly  brown  head  peeped 
in,  while  a  sweet,  glad  voice  inquired,  — 

"  May  I  come  in "?  " 

"  Certainly,  Alma,"  cried  the  two  girls, 
and  Alma  Kerner  entered. 


In  the  afternoon  the  whole  company 
were  assembled  in  the  pavilion.  Ebba, 
Alma,  and  young  Arthur  had  made  a 


pilgrimage  up  to  the  doves.  The  Justice 
was  talking  with  Counts  Kerner  and 
Kubens.  Ellen  was  helping  Aunt  Sap- 
pho to  start  a  new  pattern  in  crochet, 
while  Henrico  held  a  skein  of  worsted  for 
Countess  Emy. 

"  So,  Count,  you  consider  the  ability 
to  improvise  mythical,"  said  the  Justice. 

"  I  confess  that  I  doubt  this  capacity, 
for  even  the  greatest  genius  requires  re- 
flection to  be  able  to  link  his  thoughts 
together  in  rhyme  and  metre." 

"  And  yet,"  joined  in  Arthur,  "  I  can 
immediately  produce  a  proof  that  such 
an  ability  exists." 

"  Yes.  my  betrothed  possesses  that  kind 
of  genius,"  said  the  Justice  with  anima- 
tion. 

"  Mademoiselle  Kahn] "  inquired  Uno. 

"  If  we  dared  to  ask  Ellen,  you  would 
really  be  astonished,"  said  Count  Oscar 
Kerner ;  "  but  perhaps  Emy  will  not  al- 
low it  ] "  added  he  as  he  turned  to  Ar- 
thur. Before  the  latter  had  time  to  re- 
ply, Uno  said,  — 

"I  obtained  the  Countess's  promise 
yesterday  to  afford  me  a  proof  that  would 
remove  all  my  doubts." 

Arthur  went  to  Ellen,  saying,  — 

"  Improvise  a  little  for  us,  my  child ; 
by  so  doing  you  will  afford  Uncle  Oscar 
and  me  great  pleasure." 

Ellen  looked  at  Emy,  as  if  to  ask  her 
what  answer  she  ought  to  give ;  but  Emy 
smilingly  nodded  her  consent.  Then 
Ellen  rose  and  said  with  a  slight  blush,  — 

"  Upon  what  theme  1 " 

"  Count  Uno  has  desired  to  be  allowed 
to  give  you  one." 

Ellen  looked  at  Uno,  who  regarded  her 
with  more  curiosity  than  interest.  Her 
willingness  and  composure  excited  his 
surprise.  Uno  approached  the  young 
girl  and  said  with  a  smile,  — 

"  Pardon  the  boldness  to  which  my 
curiosity  leads  me  ;  but  I  should  be  ex- 
tremely indebted  to  you  if  you  would 
deign  to  improvise  some  lines  upon  — 
the  doubter." 


10 


THE  WIFE   OF  A   VAIN   MAN. 


Ellen  bowed  her  head  affirmatively,  and 
closing  her  eyes  she  remained  standing 
in  this  way  some  minutes ;  then  she 
began,  first  with  a  slow  and  afterwards 
more  animated  voice,  to  recite  in  rhyme 
a  description  of  the  doubter's  unhappi- 
ness,  of  the  night  which  rests  over  his 
soul.  Next  she  pictured  everything  that 
ought  to  speak  to  his  heart,  quicken  his 
faith,  and  lead  him  to  God.  A  tone  of 
true  poesy  and  glowing  feeling  prevailed 
in  her  representation,  which  charmed  and 
impressed,  so  that  she  captivated  her 
hearers  and  carried  them  with  her  either 
with  or  against  their  will. 

Uno's  gaze  had  not  for  an  instant  left 
Ellen's  face,  and  it  was  singular  to  fol- 
low its  changes.  First  it  was  suffused 
with  a  brilliant  blush,  and  her  eyes  were 
fastened  upon  the  Count  without  seem- 
ing to  see  him.  Gradually  they  lighted 
\ip,  the  color  disappeared,  a  complete 
-paleness  overspread  her  face,  while  her 
look,  when  she  spoke  of  God's  goodness 
and  the  greatness  of  his  work,  acquired 
an  expression  of  actual  inspiration. 
These  marble-pale  features  then  beamed 
with  ecstasy  and  enthusiasm. 

When  Ellen  came  nearer  the  close  her 
voice  died  away  into  a  whisper,  and  she 
sank  down  upon  a  chair.  All  remained 
silent  a  moment.  Sappho  was  the  first 
who,  with  her  natural  liveliness,  thanked 
her.  At  the  sound  of  her  voice  Ellen 
rose  again,  and  a  fine  color  returned  to 
her  cheeks. 

Count  Uno  advanced  to  her. 

"  To  doubt  now  would  be  to  doubt 
the  manifold  wonders  of  God,  and  such  a 
doubter  I  am  not.  My  gratitude  can 
only  be  equalled  by  the  admiration  your 
genius  awakens." 

The  Justice  swam  in  an  ocean  of  de- 
light at  all  the  praise  that  was  lavished 
upon  his  betrothed. 

Later  in  the  evening  they  conversed 
about  various  original  traits  of  character. 
Uno  said,  — 

"  Singularly  enough,  the  original  does 


not  strike  me.  I  do  not  love  those  who 
deviate  from  the  usual  measure  of  human 
perfection.  They  appear  to  me,  these 
originals,  like  trees  which,  instead  of 
growing  straight  as  nature  intended,  take 
a  gnarled  and  crooked  form." 

"  This  may  hold  good  with  originals 
in  character,  but  not  with  original  genius- 
es," said  Sappho.  "  Before  genius  we 
must  always  bend  with  admiration." 

"  Excuse  me,  dear  Sappho,  if  I  do  not 
perfectly  agree  with  you,"  replied  Uno. 
"  Genius  certainly  impresses  my  intellect, 
but  not  my  heart,  for  persons  of  genius 
are  just  those  who  lack  heart.  What  do 
domestic  joys  signify  to  them,  that  quiet 
and  beautiful  happiness  which  springs  up 
from  the  soil  of  the  heart  1  What  is  love 
itself  to  them  ?  Only  a  bit  of  finery  with 
which  they  adorn  their  genius,  not  a  feel- 
ing indispensable  to  their  life.  Is  the 
poet  as  noble  a  person,  as  tender  and 
faithful  a  mate,  as  he  is  a  skilful  delinea- 
tor of  all  that  is  beautiful  and  adorable 
in  the  human  heart1?  No.  His  fancy 
depicts  what  his  soul  never  felt.  And 
the  learned  genius,  who  analyzes  our 
passions,  who  dissects  our  thoughts  and 
anatomizes  all  the  workings  of  the  soul, 
is  he  anything  but  a  cold  inquirer  who 
is  so  absorbed  in  his  learned  investiga- 
tions that  his  heart  has  dried  up  and  is 
not  able  to  beat  for  his  fellow-beings, 
either  with  friendship  or  compassion  ] 
Genius  breeds  pride,  pride  egotism,  and 
egotism  kills  all  true  feeling.  I  have  far 
greater  admiration  for  those  who  are  en- 
dowed with  goodness  of  soul,  with  warmth 
and  fire  of  heart,  even  if  they  are  desti- 
tute of  genius.  The  poet  is  to  me  a 
shining  meteor  and  nothing  else." 

"  My  friend,  you  have  nearly  stifled 
me  with  your  arguments,"  exclaimed 
Sappho,  "  and  I  am  burning  with  impa- 
tience to  tell  you  that  you  make  a 
cruel  mistake ;  for  it  is  just  this  exuber- 
ance and  ardor  of  feeling  which  fosters 
the  poet ;  love  for  humanity  and  enlight- 
enment produces  the  learned  man.  And 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


11 


it  is  lack  of  egotism  that  makes  him  sac- 
rifice life  and  health  to  his  researches,  in 
order  to  benefit  his  contemporaries  and 
posterity.  I  go  so  far  as  to  assert  that 
the  faults  and  mistakes  in  life  of  both 
the  learned  and  poetic  geniuses  proceed 
just  from  too  much  heart.  There  is  no 
genius  without  feeling,  for  then  it  has 
ceased  to  be  genius.  What  do  we  mean  by 
this  word,  if  not  a  richly  endowed  soul  ? " 

"  Certainly ;  but  we  mean  by  it  only 
intellectual  superiority.  Mirabeau  was 
no  less  a  genius  for  being  a  volatile  and 
dissolute  person  ;  but  neither  does  genius 
excuse  these  failings.  And  for  this  rea- 
son I  love  moral  superiority  more,  and 
would  rather  kneel  before  the  good  than 
before  the  gifted." 

"Acknowledge  at  least  that  you  are 
transported  by  what  is  gifted  and  beau- 
tiful]" 

"  Yes,  if  it  is  combined  with  virtue 
and  goodness  ;  otherwise  it  lacks  all 
value  for  me." 

"  Take  care,  Uno,"  said  Sappho,  laugh- 
ing, "  you  are  now  trying  to  be  original 
yourself." 

"  Not  at  all.  A  proof  of  this  is  that 
that  picture  charms  and  delights  me," 
said  he  in  a  whisper,  pointing  to  Ebba 
and  Alma,  who  were  playing  ball ; 
"  while  my  heart  remained  cold  and  in- 
sensible to  all  the  beautiful  things  ut- 
tered by  the  young  improvisatrice." 

"  Hush ! "  said  Sappho,  and  looked 
around  her,  but,  as  she  did  not  see  Ellen, 
she  added  :  "  But  do  you  know  that  El- 
len herself  is  a  proof  that  goodness  of 
heart  accompanies  genius,  for  I  know  no 
one  so  good,  so  merciful  to  her  kind,  as 
she." 

"  Possibly ;  but  this  goodness  is  a 
result  of  ideality,  not  of  an  innate  need 
of  being  good.  Regard  her  face  closely, 
and  you  will  be  astonished  at  the  cold- 
ness in  it.  It  has  a  passive  mildness, 
an  empty,  absent  expression ;  in  a  word, 
it  indicates  a  soul  that  is  swayed  by  its 
dreams,  not  by  its  feelings,  and  which 


looks  down  with  a  spiritual  pride  upon 
all  that  generally  gladdens  youth.  The 
girl  is  a  genius,  I  admit;  but  her 
heart  is  dried  up  by  an  unrestrained  im- 
agination which  makes  her  incapable  of 
being  happy  herself  or  of  spreading  joy 
around  her.  Do  you  believe,  Sappho,' 
that  her  husband  can  be  happy  at  the 
side  of  a  being  who  possesses  nothing  in 
common  with  us  others,  but  lives  and 
idealizes  in  the  kingdom  of  fancy  ? 
What  domestic  comfort  can  she  produce, 
who  will  never  be  able  to  conceive  of  the 
felicity  of  domestic  life  1  How  inferior 
must  not  the  love  be  which  she  bestows 
upon  her  husband,  when  her  soul  only 
dreams  of  what  reality  does  not  possess. 
No,  this  genius  which  charms  and  trans- 
ports you,  and  which  makes  this  Ellen  a 
wonder  to  you,  awakens  with  me  only  a 
painful  impression,  and  every  word  of 
praise  which  I  am  compelled  to  accord 
her  ability  to  improvise,  excites  my  aver- 
sion. How  much  more  ravishing  would 
she  not  be  if  one  saw  in  her  the  innocent 
vivacity  of  youth,  instead  of  this  genius 
continually  striving  for  applause,  con- 
cealed under  dissembled  modesty  !  " 

While  Uno  was  speaking,  Ellen  had 
entered  without  either  he  or  Sappho 
being  aware  of  it.  She  had  approached 
the  table  at  which  Sappho  was  sitting  to 
get  a  book  that  lay  there,  but  stopped  a 
moment  unavoidably  when  she  heard  her 
name  mentioned.  Something  extremely 
painful  was  felt  within  the  yonng  girl 
when  she  listened  to  Uno's  severe  judg- 
ment, and  she  took  a  step  back  in  order 
to  steal  away  without  being  observed  by 
the  speakers,  when  Count  Arthur,  who 
was  on  the  other  side  of  the  room,  but 
opposite  to  Ellen,  exclaimed,  — 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Ellen, 
you  are  so  pale  ] " 

At  his  words  Uno  and  Sappho  turned 
quickly,  and  Ellen  stood  behind  them. 
When  Uno  looked  at  her,  their  eyes  met. 
Poor  Ellen's  glance  was  so  sorrowful  that 
it  made  a  painful  impression  upon  the 


12 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


Count.  She  turned  her  eyes  from  him 
immediately  and  directed  them  to  Ar- 
thur. 

"  I  am  \vell,  dear  Uncle,"  said  she. 
With  this  she  took  the  book  and  intend- 
ed to  leave  the  saloon ;  but  Sappho  bade 
her  stay  and  offered  her  hand  kindly. 

"  Sing  something  for  us,"  said  she. 

"  Mademoiselle  Kahn  sings  also  ? " 
asked  Uno. 

''Yes,  but  not  this  evening," replied 
Ellen,  and  now  raised  her  lowered  head. 

"  If  I  ask  you,  child,  then  you  cannot 
say  no,"  said  Sappho  heartily. 

Ellen  carried  her  hand  to  her  lips  with 
a  charming  motion,  and  answered  smil- 
ing :  "  This  evening  I  should  say  no, 
even  if  Aunt  Emy  asked  me." 

"  The  reason,  my  little  Ellen  ? " 

"We  are  too  many." 

"  That  is  not  an  acceptable  excuse,  for 
you  have  never  refused  to  sing  for  us 
before  when  we  have  been  together  so 
familiarly." 

"  That  is  true,  but  we  were  then  not 
so  many  as  this  evening,"  said  Ellen. 
*  "  My   sweet   child,   th^re   have   been 
still  more  of  us." 

"  Possibly,  but  at  least  not  the  same 
who  are  here  now." 

Sappho  colored  a  little,  but  smiled. 
Uno  had  stood  silent  the  whole  time. 
Now  he  said,  — 

"  There  is  one  too  many  this  evening, 
and  on  account  of  this  one  you  will  not 
sing.  Am  I  not  right,  Mademoiselle 
Kahiil" 

"  Perfectly  right." 

"And  who  is  the  unhappy  person1?" 
asked  Sappho,  laughing. 

"  Yes,  tell  us  who  it  is  that  you  would 
like  to  exclude,"  said  Uno,  with  an  al- 
most sarcastic  smile,  for  he  thought  that 
the  question  would  place  Ellen  in  em- 
barrassment. 

"  You,  Count ! "  answered  Ellen  di- 
rectly, but  with  a  certain  trembling  in 
her  voice. 

"  Good  God,  Ellen !  what  is  that  you 


say?"  burst  out  the  Justice.  He  had 
come  in  during  the  latter  part  of  the 
conversation. 

"The  truth,"  said  Ellen,  as  she  left 
them.  Sappho  and  Uno  exchanged  a 
glance.  The  Justice  then  found  himself 
obliged  to  say  to  Uno,  — 

"  You  must  not  judge  my  betrothed 
too  severely,  Herr  Count ;  her  words 
sometimes  sound  strange,  but  she  never 
means  to  wound.  For  the  rest  I  shall 
immediately  persuade  her  to  sing,  if  the 
Countess  and  Count  so  desire." 

"It  is  entirely  unnecessary  to  try  to 
excuse  Ellen,"  said  Sappho  with  spirit 
and  a  slight  shade  of  hauteur.  "  She  is 
such  a  superior  girl  that  she  is  never 
guilty  of  anything  which  is  not  right." 

"But  —  " 

"You  do  not  know  the  reason  of 
Ellen's  conduct ;  what  use  is  it  then  to 
speak  of  it  ]  I  find  her  behavior  perfectly 
right,  and  it  has  only  increased  my  re- 
spect for  her."  Sappho  rose,  and  Uno 
turned  politely  to  the  Justice,  saying,  — 

"  I  assure  you  that  the  truth  can 
never  wound  me,  and  I  stand  in  debt  to 
Mademoiselle  Kahn  fof  expressing  it  so 
freely."  He  then  began  to  speak  of  in- 
different matters,  but  a  cloud  of  displeas- 
ure rested  on  the  Justice's  face. 


When  Sappho  left  Uno  and  the  Jus- 
tice she  went  to  look  tip  Ellen.  She 
found  her  in  the  garden,  sitting  on  a 
mossy  bank,-  with  her  head  leaning 
against  a  tree  and  her  face  bathed  in 
tears. 

"  Why,  Ellen,  you  are  weeping  1 "  ex- 
claimed Sappho  when  she  saw  her. 

"  Yes,  I  am  weeping,  weeping  from 
indignation  and  pain." 

"  Over  what  1 " 

"  That  any  one  should  consider  me 
affected.  What  gives  Count  Uno  the 
right  to  so  judge  me  1  He  does  not 
know  me,  and  yet  he  dares  to  cast  a 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


13 


shadow  upon  my  character."  Ellen 
looked  at  Sappho  with  flashing  eyes. 
Her  face  was  not  soulless  now,  as  one 
usually  said  of  it. 

"  My  child,  he  has  not  wished  to  cast 
any  shadow  upon  your  character ;  he 
has  only  expressed  his  views  to  me  with 
regard  to  poetic  temperaments  in  gen- 
eral. These  views  are  false  in  themselves, 
and  as  far  as  you  in  particular  are  con- 
cerned entirely  unjust." 

"  You  wish  to  excuse  him.  Has  he 
not  said  that  I  '  strove  for  applause  '  ? " 

"  But  as  you  do  not,  you  can  laugh  at 
such  an  assertion,"  said  Sappho,  patting 
Ellen  on  the  cheek. 

"  It  seems  to  me  as  if  this  expression 
of  his  had  made  me  worse  ;  my  heart  is 
filled  with  bitterness  and  resentment 
over  the  injustice  of  his  judgment,  and 
at  this  moment  I  am  not  good." 

"  Not  good  1 "  Sappho  smiled.  "  Would 
you  actually  wish  to  do  him  any  harm "? " 

"  No ;  but  I  would  force  him  to  ac- 
knowledge that  he  has  judged  me 
wrongly." 

Emy  and  the  Justice  now  approached 
them. 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  1  Ellen 
looks  quite  disturbed,"  said  Emy. 

"  About  Uno,"  answer'ed  Ellen. 

"  Then  it  does  not  surprise  me  that 
you  are  disturbed,"  replied  Emy,  smil- 
ing ;  "  for  Ochard  has  mentioned  to  me 
that  you  have  been  so  frank  as  to  declare 
that  Uno  was  one  person  too  many  when 
you  were  to  sing.  Fie,  fie,  Ellen  darling  ! 
this  time  you  entirely  forgot  the  claims 
of  politeness." 

"But  not  the  claims  of  truth,"  said 
Sappho ;  "  and  as  truth  is  worth  consid- 
erably more  than  politeness,  Ellen  was 
right  and  you  wrong  to  speak  further  of 
the  matter,  about  which  I  besides  imme- 
diately expressed  my  opinion."  Some- 
thing of  Sappho's  haughty  tone  was 
shadowed  forth  in  these  words ;  but  as 
if  she  repented  it  she  added  jestingly, 
"  And  besides,  it  is  not  polite  of  you 


to  give  the  lie  to  my  judgment  through 
an  appeal  to  Emy." 

"  My  gracious  Lady,  that  was  never 
my  intention  ;  I  bow  myself  in  the  dust 
before  your  superiority." 

"  And  then  fall  on  your  knees  before 
Ellen  and  confess  that  you  cruelly  tres- 
passed against  her,  when  you  —  told 
tales."  Sappho  raised  her  finger  threat- 
eningly. 

The  Justice  laughingly  bent  his  knee 
before  his  betrothed,  who  with  a  gentle 
smile  gave  him  her  hand. 


The  next  day  there  was  a  little  party 
at  Holmvik.  It  was  Ebba's  sixteenth 
birthday,  and  all  the  young  people  in  the 
neighborhood  were  invited  to  celebrate 
the  occasion.  Where  young  folks  are  to 
have  a  good  time,  there  must  be  dancing, 
and  they  danced  to  their  hearts'  content. 
During  one  of  the  resting  spells,  Oscar 
Kerner  said  to  Ellen,  — 

"  Well,  Ellen,  will  you  not  improvise 
some  lines  in  Ebba's  honor  1 " 

Not  far  from  Oscar  stood  Uno.  At 
this  question  of  the  Count,  he  turned  and 
looked  at  Ellen. 

"  No,  dear  Uncle,  I  cannot  do  it,"  an- 
swered she,  blushing. 

"  It  would  certainly  make  Ebba  very 
glad  if  you  expressed  your  friendship  for 
her  in  a  few  cordial  words." 

"  Ebba  knows  full  well  how  deeply  I 
love  her,  and  no  words  are  needed  to 
convince  her  of  it." 

"  But  you  would  afford  us  all  a  pleas- 
ure by  so  doing.  Child,  I  beg.  you  to  do 
it."  Oscar  took  Ellen's  hand  and  looked 
at  her  kindly. 

"If  we  were  alone,  I  would  instantly 
oblige  you ;  not  now." 

Uno  approached. 

"  If  we  should  all  join  in  the  request, 
would  you  still  say  no  1 " 

"Yes,  most  assuredly." 

In  a  moment  Ellen  was  surrounded  by 


14 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


a  whole  bevy,  who  in  all  possible  tones 
entreated  her  to  improvise  ;  but  Ellen 
remained  inexorable. 

The  Justice  whispered  one  warm  pray- 
er after  another  in  her  ear,  but  without 
success.  Even  Arthur  and  Emy  begged 
the  young  girl  to  listen  to  these  united 
prayers,  but  she  persisted  in  her  refusal, 
and  finally  hastened  away.  Evert  fol- 
lowed her.  When  she  came  into  Emy's 
cabinet,  she  turned  round,  — 

"  Is  that  you,  Evert  1 "  said  she. 

"  Ellen,  why  this  decided  refusal,  when 
you  could  so  easily  do  what  they  ask  of 
you  and  thereby  make  me  happy  ] "  said 
Evert,  seizing  her  hand. 

"  Do  you  absolutely  wish  to  hear  me 
improvise  1 " 

"  What  a  question !  I  who  begged 
you  to  do  it  so  fervently." 

"Very  well,  Evert,  I  promise  to  im- 
provise as  much  as  you  wish  to-morrow, 
when  we  are  alone." 

"Beloved  Ellen,  you  must  do  it  this 
evening.  Ah !  if  you  knew  how  my 
heart  swells  with  pride  and  joy  when 
they  gather  around  you  to  render  you 
their  homage.  If  you  could  realize  how 
happy  this  praise  which  is  lavished  upon 
you  makes  me,  you  would  not  deny  me 
the  enjoyment  of  seeing  you  the  object 
of  general  admiration  and  of  knowing 
that  this  distinguished  girl  is  my  betrothed. 
Ellen,  I  conjure  you  !  show  me  your  love 
by  yielding  to  the  entreaties  that  have 
been  made  you.  Sacrifice  for  my  sake 
the  caprice  which  induced  you  to  refuse 
them."  Evert  had  fallen  upon  his  knees 
before  Ellen  and  covered  her  hands  with 
kisses. 

Ellen  bent  down  to  him,  pressed  her 
lips  to  his  brow,  and  whispered,  — 

"  Do  not  beg  me,  dear  Evert,  I  cannot 
fulfil  you  prayer." 

Evert  remained  yet  a  moment  and 
continued  to  beseech  her ;  but  when 
Ellen  still  refused,  he  rose  and  said,  — 

"Ah  !  I  see  now  how  little  you  love 
me.  What  sort  of  a  love  is  that  which 


cannot  even  sacrifice  a  caprice  for  the 
beloved  one  1 "  And  with  this  he  left  her. 

Ellen  let  him  go  without  trying  to 
mollify  him  with  a  single  word.  She 
threw  herself  down  in  an  easy-chair  and 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

This  little  scene  had  had  two  wit- 
nesses. 

When  Ellen  left  the  room,  Emy  had 
gone  another  way  in  order  to  meet  her 
in  the  cabinet  and  represent  to  her  in 
some  friendly  words  that  she  ought  to 
comply  with  the  general  request.  But 
she  had  stopped  when  she  heard  Evert 
and  Ellen  speaking,  and  the  longer  she 
listened  the  more  astonished  she  became 
at  Ellen's  obstinacy,  so  little  in  accord- 
ance with  the  young  girl's  gentle  and 
submissive  disposition. 

"  What  is  it  that  can  induce  Ellen  to 
be  so  stubborn,  that  she  makes  Evert 
both  angry  and  troubled  1 "  thought  Emy. 
"  She  must  certainly  have  some  adequate 
reason  for  it,  else  she  would  not  act  so ; 
but  now  I  must  return  to  the  company 
and  try  to  excuse  her,  for  to  attempt  to 
persuade  her  is  not  likely  to  compensate 
for  the  effort."  Emy  returned  to  the 
saloon. 

"Ah,  I  was  just  looking  for  you  to 
ask  you  to  become  my  vis-ct-vis  in  the 
fran$aise  which  we  are  going  to  dance." 

"  With  pleasure,"  answered  Evert,  and 
hastened  again  in  to  Ellen.  An  angry 
flush  yet  burned  on  his  cheeks  and  his 
voice  trembled  as  he  said  to  her,  — 

"  I  siippose  you  will  also  refuse  if  I 
ask  you  to  dance  with  me  ? " 

Ellen  replied  pleasantly,  — 

"No,  Evert,  I  certainly  will  not." 
With  this  she  rose,  wiped  away  her  tears, 
and  gave  her  hand  to  her  betrothed. 

"  You  are  very  good.  I  really  did  not 
expect  so  much  compliance  from  you 
towards  so  insignificant  a  person  as  I  am  !" 

"  Why  this  scorn,  Evert  !  " 

"  Scorn  ?  My  friend,  the  truth  cannot 
be  scorn ;  but  let  us  leave  off.  The 
music  has  begun,  and  we  oi:ght  not  to 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


15 


let  the  others  wait  while  we  exchange 
our  tender  feelings."  Evert  laughed  de- 
risively. 

Ellen  felt  hurt  by  his  words.  She 
was  filled  with  bitter  feelings,  and  at  this 
moment  she  lacked  entirely  the  mildness 
and  toleration  which  were  the  basis  of 
her  character.  Cold,  hard  words  trem- 
bled upon  her  lips,  but  she  held  them 
back  with  a  violent  effort.  Never  had 
Ellen  been  swayed  by  more  disagreeable 
impressions,  never  had  her  mild  and 
loving  heart  been  filled  with  such  pas- 
sionate and  violent  emotions.  She  felt 
ready  to  weep  over  herself,  so  changed 
did  she  seem ;  but  pride  restrained  her 
tears,  and  with  flaming  cheeks  and  an 
almost  repellant  expression  in  her  face, 
she  entered  the  dancing-hall.  That  this 
cold  expression  was  not  softened  when 
she  found  that  Uno  was  there  opposite, 
that  the  sight  of  him  did  not  have  a 
calming  effect  upon  the  bitter  feelings 
which  governed  her,  can  be  easily  per- 
ceived when  one  considers  that  his  attack 
against  her  had  called  them  forth. 

During  the  whole  dance  Ellen's  move- 
ments lacked  the  enchanting  grace  of 
coyness  which  usually  distinguished  her. 
She  carried  her  head  high.  A  touch 
of  unsubdued  pride  revealed  itself  in  all 
her  motions.  Not  once  did  she  fasten 
her  eyes  on  the  Count ;  and  when  he  said 
some  words  to  her  during  the  dance,  she 
bowed  her  head  in  response,  but  not  a 
word  passed  her  lips.  When  the  dance 
was  over  and  Evert  led  her  to  a  seat,  she 
said  almost  with  temper,  — 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  that  the 
Count  was  to  be  our  vis-d-vis  ?  If  I  had 
known  that,  I  should  not  have  danced." 

"  But,  good  God,  Ellen !  what  ails 
you?"  exclaimed  Evert,  looking  at  her 
with  astonishment.  He  had  never  seen 
her  like  this. 

"  Ah  !  forgive  me,"  whispered  she,  "  I 
am  very,  very  bad  to-day ;  I  feel  it." 

"Why  should  you  not  wish  to  dance 
when  the  Count  was  opposite  to  you  ? " 


"  Because  —  because  it  is  hard  for  me 
to  endure  him  ! "  stammered  Ellen. 

Emy  had  observed  her  foster-daughter, 
and  in  her  heart  made  the  same  explana- 
tion as  Evert :  "  Good  God,  what  ails  the 
girl  ] "  She  had  never  known  Ellen  to 
abandon  herself  to  a  bitter  mood,  never 
before  seen  this  cross  and  irritable  ex- 
pression in  her  face,  never  this  cold  and 
arrogant  pride. 

Uno  thought  as  he  danced  opposite 
her,  — j 

"  How  genius  can  blind  people  !  That 
woman  passes  for  good  and  mild.  Be- 
cause she  can  paint  beautiful  and  mag- 
nificent images  with  her  fancy,  one  be- 
lieves that  she  feels  all  that  she  utters  in 
her  ecstasy ;  and  yet  her  heart  is  empty, 
cramped  by  all  the  littleness  that  clings  to 
the  most  ordinary  of  all  ordinary  people. 
Stubborn  from  wounded  self-love,  neither 
love  nor  prayers  can  induce  her  to  yield, 
because  she  has  discovered  that  I  db  not 
admire  her  or  believe  her  to  be  one  of  the 
world's  wonders.  No,  these  gifted  persons 
are  as  deformed  as  a  wagon  with  one  large 
wheel  and  the  other  small.  The  result 
is  that  the  wagon  is  not  fit  for  use,  and 
neither  are  these  model  people  qualified 
for  real  life.  They  are  ruled  by  self-love, 
and  only  self-love.  No,  give  me  my  lit- 
tle relative  Ebba,  with  her  warm,  childish 
heart  and  pure  feelings.  She  enlivens 
the  soul  and  warms  the  blood.  Ah ! 
happy  he  who  can  have  such  a  treasure 
for  a  companion  through  life  ! " 


Quite  early  the  next  morning,  Ellen, 
attired  in  her  riding-habit,  stole  down 
the  steps  and  went  into  the  servants' 
building.  It  was  so  early  that  all  at 
Holmvik  still  slept.  When  she  entered 
the  room  opposite  the  kitchen,  a  wailing 
sound  met  her  ear.  It  came  from  an  old; 
woman  who  lay  in  bed.  Ellen  went  to 
the  sick  person,  bent  down  over  her  and 
asked,  — 


16 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


"  How  are  you,  Greta? " 

"  God  bless  you,  Mamsell  Ellen  !  How 
good  of  you  to  come  to  see  a  poor  crea- 
ture !  I  have  had  a  bad  night,  but  when 
I  see  you  I  always  forget  my  pains." 

"  Has  Lotta  attended  to  you  properly 
during  the  night,  and  given  you  the  med 
icine  regularly  1 " 

"Yes,  indeed  she  has;  but  my  pains 
are  j  ust  as  severe ;  they  are  right  here  in 
my  breast." 

"  Do  you  think  that  you  are  worse 
to-day  1 " 

"  Yes,"  faltered  the  sick  woman,  who 
spoke  with  great  difficulty. 

"  Then  we  must  have  the  doctor.  I 
promised  your  daughter,  when  she  was 
in  such  despair  at  being  obliged  to  leave 
you  to  the  care  of  others,  that,  with 
God's  help,  you  should  recover,  and  I  in- 
tend to  keep  my  word.  I  shall  now  ride 
after  the  doctor,  but  will  be  back  soon." 
The  young  girl  nodded  kindly  to  the  old 
woman  and  left  the  room.  She  took  her 
way  down  to  the  stable. 

"  Be  so  good  as  to  saddle  my  riding 
horse,  Anderson,"  said  she  to  one  of  the 
stable-men. 

"Shall  Fredrik  attend  you?"  asked 
Anderson. 

"  No,  it  is  unnecessary." 

A  few  moments  after  this  Count  Uno 
opened  his  window  and  saw  a  woman  rid- 
ing away  at  full  speed. 

"  Who  can  it  be  ? "  thought  he,  and  re- 
mained standing  at  the  window.  "  It  is 
only  seven  o'clock,  and  we  did  not  stop 
dancing  until  three  ;  consequently  it  is 
no  one  from  here,  for  all  the  household 
;are  still  asleep." 

The  Count  tried  to  go  to  sleep  again  ; 
but  as  he  could  not  succeed,  he  finally 
got  up,  dressed  himself,  and  went  down 
to  the  stable,  to  have  a  horse  saddled. 
In  '  a  short  time  he  galloped  off  in  the 
same  direction  which  the  horse-woman 
had  taken  an  hour  before,  while  he 
thought,  — 

"  I  wonder  who  that  Amazon  was  who 


went  off  all  alone  so  early  in  the  morn- 
ing. Probably  some  lady  from  this  do- 
main" (he  was  now  riding  by  a  place  called 
Lundagard) ;  "in  that  case  I  shall  inevita- 
bly meet  her  when  she  turns  back."  He 
held  in  his  horse  and  let  him  take  an 
easy  pace. 

"  We  are  very  singular  creatures,  we 
human  beings,"  continued  he  in  thought ; 
"  an  entire  stranger  excites  our  curiosity, 
if  she  only  appears  in  some  unusual  man- 
ner. So  is  it  now  with  me.  I  see  an 
unknown  woman  ride  past  my  window 
on  a  fine  horse,  and  directly  I  wish  to 
know  who  she  is  and  how  she  looks, 
without  being  led  by  any  other  interest 
than  my  curiosity." 

In  the  midst  of  his  soliloquy  Uno 
heard  horses'  hoofs  in  the  distance.  They 
came  nearer  and  nearer.  At  the  turn  of 
the  road  the  equestrienne  suddenly  ap- 
peared. She  flew  forward,  as  if  her  horse 
had  had  wings,  and  dashed  past  Uno 
like  a  hurricane.  Just  at  the  moment 
when  he  prepared  to  take  a  closer  inspec- 
tion of  her,  she  turned  away  her  head,  so 
that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  distin- 
guish her  features  through  the  thick  black 
veil  that  she  had  drawn  down  at  the  sight 
of  the  Count. 

Uno  reined  in  his  horse  just  as  she 
rode  by  him  and  thought,  "  She  does 
not  wish  to  be  recognized.  She  knows 
me,  then."  With  this  he  turned  his 
horse,  but  could  not  refrain  from  look- 
ing back  when  he  heard  a  carriage 
coming  at  full  speed  behind  him.  In 
it  sat  an  elderly  gentleman  with  mild 
and  intelligent  features.  The  Count  al- 
lowed him  to  pass  ;  for  he  had  observed 
that  the  lady  before  him  had  also  reined 
in  her  horse  a  moment  to  look  back,  and 
that  when  she  discovered  the  carriage  she 
continued  her  way  more  slowly. 

"Now  I  could  catch  up  with  her," 
thought  the  Count ;  "  but  it  would  not  be 
gallant,  as  she  does  not  wish  to  be  known." 
And  as  a  result  of  this  reasoning  he  too  let 
his  horse  proceed  leisurely.  He  saw  plain- 


THE  WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


17 


ly  that  the  lady  on  horseback  -wished  to 
wait  for  the  carriage,  and  when  this 
came  up  they  both  went  on  together, 
and  Uno  was  obliged  to  hurry  his  horse 
so  as  not  to  lose  them  from  sight.  To 
his  no  slight  surprise  they  turned  off  at 
Holmvik  and  went  up  the  avenue.  When 
the  Count,  in  his  turn,  galloped  up  the 
same,  the  lady  and  the  horse  had  disap- 
peared, but  the  carriage  stood  before  the 
little  building. 

"  Who  has  come  here  ? "  inquired 
Uno  of  the  coachman. 

"  The  doctor,"  was  the  answer. 

Uno  rode  on  to  the  .stable,  mutter- 
ing,— 

"  I  can  lay  a  wager  that  the  rider  was 
no  other  than  Ellen.  Well,  that  is  fit- 
ting, —  genius  and  amazou.  I  'm  blessed 
if  I  can  find  anything  to  admire  in  such 
creatures.  Can  any  genius  in  the  world, 
however  great  it  may  be,  compensate  for 
the  loss  of  the  modesty,  sweetness,  and 
gentleness  which  ought  to  distinguish 
woman,  especially  when  young  ? "  The 
Count  now  jumped  from  his  horse,  threw 
the  reins  to  the  hostler,  and  went  up  the 
steps. 

At  breakfast,  which  they  took  in  the 
garden  surrounded  by  the  perfume  of 
flowers,  the  song  of  birds,  and  the  glori- 
ous morning  sun,  Ellen  did  not  appear. 
The  Justice  was  apparently  in  a  bad  hu- 
mor. While  Uno  was  speaking  to  Sap- 
pho, he  heard  Countess  Rubens  say  to 
Ellen's  betrothed,  — 

"My  dear  Evert,  you  must  promise 
me  not  to  keep  talking  to  Ellen  about 
what  people  will  say,  how  it  looks,  and 
so  on.  She  has  not  been  so  brought  up 
that  she  can  ever  become  a  slave  to  the 
opinion  of  others,  but  she  has  learned 
from  me  not  to  prize  it  any  higher  than 
it  is  actually  worth.  Her  free,  uncor- 
rupted  heart  will  never  understand  all 
the  triviality  and  meanness  which  is 
called  'opinion.'  Let  her  be  as  she  is, 
an  innocent  child,  and  do  not  pay  any 
attention  to  her  little  peculiarities  of 


habit  and  such  trifles.  Believe  me,  Ellen 
will  never  forget  her  respect  for  proprie- 
ty ;  but  neither  can  she  comprehend  that 
a  morning  ride  here  in  the  country  is 
improper." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  shall  now  have  to 
yield  as  usual.  You  and  my  own  heart 
always  speak  in  Ellen's  favor ;  but  admit, 
that  people  could  actually  think  that 
love  is  very  weak  in  Ellen,  when  she 
prefers  to  ride  out  in  the  morning  all 
alone  to  doing  it  in  my  company.  You 
must  acknowledge  that  such  a  conclusion 
is  scarcely  flattering  to  me,  who  —  " 

"  Who  would  like  people  to  think  that 
you  were  adored  by  your  betrothed,"  re- 
joined the  Countess,  not  without  a  cer- 
tain irony  in  her  voice.  "  Dear  Evert, 
leave  once  for  all  this  eternal  anxiety 
about  what  people  think  and  say,  and  be 
contented  with  the  certainty  you  possess, 
that  Ellen,  who  could  choose  among  so 
many  above  you  in  rank  and  fortune, 
nevertheless  accepted  you  from  inclina- 
tion." 

Evert  reddened;  it  was  evident  that 
the  Countess's  words  displeased  him ;  and 
as  his  vanity  could  not  very  well  bear 
the  reminder,  he  resumed  with  some  bit- 
terness, — 

"  If  I  had  the  happiness  of  being  pre- 
ferred by  Ellen  to  other  more  worthy 
rivals,  I  think  I  have  also  shown  through 
my  love  that  I  can  accommodate  myself  to 
her  peculiarities  of  disposition  and  ca- 
prices better  than  any  one  else." 

"  Caprices  ! " 

"  Yes,  or  what  name  will  you  give  to 
her  absence  from  breakfast  ] " 

Emy  said  nothing.  She  could  not  with 
justice  deny  that  Ellen  had  for  a  few 
days  past  appeared  to  her  capricious. 

"  Ought  she  to  be  so  angry  with  me  as 
to  shut  herself  up  in  her  room  on  that 
account  1 " 

"I  do  not  believe  that  this  was  the 
reason,  but  rather  that  she  suffered  from 
your  remarks  and  the  bitterness  with 
which  you  uttered  them." 


18 


THE  WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


"  It  is  always  my  fault." 

"  Evert,  I  say  now  what  I  have  told 
you  several  times  before  :  you  must  know 
Ellen  better  before  you  unite  your  desti- 
nies." 

"  My  gracious  aunt,  Ellen  and  I  must 
either  be  married  in  the  autumn  or 
never."  He  left  the  Countess. 

Emy  remained  sitting  and  looked 
thoughtfully  after  him.  And  Uno,  who 
had  listened  to  the  conversation, 
thought,  — 

"  Poor  man,  so  he  is  foolish  enough  to 
marry  that  gifted  girl.  He  is  likely  to 
pay  dearly  for  his  happiness." 

While  Emy  was  considering  what  was 
the  wisest  thing  to  do,  Evert  how  highly 
necessary  it  was  for  him  to  be  married  to 
Ellen  soon,  and  Uno  was  congratulating 
himself  upon  not  being  in  Evert's  place, 
the  object  of  all  this  displeasure  and 
blame  sat  by  the  old  servant's  sick-bed 
and  assisted  Lotta  to  apply  leeches  to 
the  patient's  breast ;  for  the  girl  had  a 
great  terror  of  the  small  creatures,  and 
could  not  be  induced  to  take  hold  of 
them.  Ellen,  on  the  other  hand,  wished 
•to  show  Lotta  how  childish  she  was  to 
'let  fear  keep  her  from  helping  a  sick  per- 
son. The  forenoon  was  far  advanced 
•when  she  left  the  sick-room,  satisfied 
with  her  morning's  work ;  for  Greta  now 
slept  calmly  and  quietly.  In  the  court- 
yard Ellen  met  Uno. 

""You  have  taken  an  early  ride  this 
morning,"  said  he. 

Ellen  colored,  looked  coldly  at  him, 
and  answered,  — • 

"  I  do  so  every  morning." 

"Alone?" 

"  That  is  just  as  it  happens." 

"  We  missed  you  at  breakfast." 

"  We  would  always  rather  be  where 
we  are  indispensable,  and  I  have  followed 
this  rule  to-day." 

"  To  whom  is  a  young  woman  indis- 
pensable, if  not  to  the  man  who  loves 
her  ?  Your  betrothed  misses  you." 

Ellen  blushed  again. 


"  I  hope  he  has  not  complained  about 
it  to  you  ? "  Ellen  looked  at  him  proud- 
ly, made  an  inclination  of  the  head,  and 
left  the  place. 

"  I  have  irremediably  wounded  her 
self-love ;  that  seetos  clear,  but  it  is  in- 
different to  me." 

That  afternoon  the  Kerners  returned 
to  Lb'da. 


The  rays  of  the  afternoon  sun  illu- 
mined the  park  at  Holmvik.  The 
Count,  Countess,  and  their  two  children 
had  taken  a  walk  to  the  sea-shore. 
Ellen  and  Evert  had  remained  in  the 
park.  We  find  them  sitting  on  a  rustic 
sofa.  The  Justice  had  folded  one  of  her 
hands  between  both  his,  and  there  was 
a  touch  of  true  emotion  in  his  voice  as 
he  spoke  to  her. 

"  My  beloved  Ellen,  I  deeply  feel  the 
need  of  our  rightly  understanding  each 
other.  It  seems  to  me  sometimes  as 
though  we  did  not,  and  I  suffer  from  it. 
You  see,  Ellen,  I  love  you  so  sincerely, 
so  earnestly,  that  every  inequality  in 
your  disposition,  every  cold  and  unfriend- 
ly word,  pains  and  wounds  me,  calls  up 
bitter  doubts  in  my  soul  of  the  contin- 
xiance  of  your  feelings  for  me.  Ah ! 
Ellen,  I  then  feel  with  grief  that  you  are 
rich  and  I  poor.  At  such  moments  I 
am  seized  with  an  inner  despair,  and  I 
should  be  ready  to  fly  your  presence, 
did  not  a  love  stronger  than  all  other 
feelings  bind  me  to  you.  The  last  few 
days  have  contained  for  me  so  many 
sources  of  suffering,  that  I  resolved  to 
ask  you  if  you  really  loved  me,  or  if  the 
yes  you  gave  was  an  indiscretion  which 
you  repent.  If  that  is  so,  Ellen,  then 
may  God  forgive  you  !  you  have  cruelly 
played  with  my  heart."  The  words  in 
this  speech  were  well  calculated,  for  they 
appealed  to  all  her  noblest  feelings,  and 
her  answer  came  truly  and  frankly  from 
her  heart. 

"Dear  Evert,  forgive   me   if  I  have 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


19 


troubled  you ;  but  God,  who  reads  my 
heart,  knows  that  it  has  not  been  inten- 
tional. Believe  me,  when  I  solemnly 
assure  you  that  my  heart  is  faithful,  and 
that  I  have  not  once  regretted  the  yes  I 
gave  you.  Never  say  to  me  that  you 
are  poor  and  I  rich ;  for  this  is  something 
which  I  do  not  think  of.  I  have  only 
felt  that  of  all  the  men  I  have  seen,  of 
all  who  have  wished  me  to  share  their 
future,  you  were  the  only  one  to  whom 
I  had  the  courage  to  trust  myself,  be- 
cause you  better  than  others  understood 
me.  Faithful  and  honest  is  the  feel- 
ing which  binds  me  to  you.  If  I  some- 
times appear  cold  and  indifferent,  then 
ascribe  it  to  my  dreamy  and  singular 
charactei-,  never  to  my  heart,  and  be 
indulgent  with  my  defects,  which  I  shall 
try  to  remedy  when  I  become  your 
wife." 

"And  when,  Ellen,  shall  this  happi- 
ness be  mine  1 "  Evert  kissed  her  hand 
warmly  while  he  said  beseechingly  :  "  0, 
let  me  not  wait  for  it  too  long.  I  feel 
that  my  calm  and  all  my  hope  rests  upon 
your  consenting  to  let  me  lead  you  to 
the  altar  in  the  fall.  Ellen,  if  you  love 
me,  if  my  happiness  is  dear  to  you,  if 
my  peace  has  any  value  for  you,  then 
promise  me  that  our  wedding  may  be 
celebrated  on  my  birthday,  the  18th 
of  October.  Ah !  I  am  so  childish  that 
if  you  refuse  I  shall  see  in  it  a  bad  mean- 
ing. My  good,  sweet  Ellen,  could  you 
grieve  me  so  deeply  as  to  refuse  to  grant 
my  prayer  1 " 

"  No,  I  cannot,"  whispered  Ellen  with 
mildness.  "  It  shall  be  as  you  wish." 

Evert  was  delirious  with  joy,  and 
looked  full  of  bliss.  Ellen  was  good  and 
kind  ;  but  one  sought  in  vain  in  this 
quiet  tenderness  for  any  trace  of  the 
lover's  warmth.  She  seemed  so  passive 
that  she  resembled  an  object  which  will- 
ingly allows  itself  to  be  carried  along  by 
the  stream.  She  smiled  at  Evert  with 
the  calm  satisfaction  which  one  experi- 
ences from  making  others  happy ;  but 


there  was  nothing  of  love's  intoxicating 
felicity  in  this  smile. 

After  Evert  with  hand-kissings  and 
protestations  had  given  free  course  to  his 
gratitude,  he  said  with  a  warm  glance,  — 

"  As  you  know,  beloved  Ellen,  I  must 
go  to  Stockholm  next  week  to  attend  to 
my  duties,  and  thus  live  apart  from  you 
for  several  weeks.  Will  you  promise  to 
let  nothing  induce  you  to  retract  the 
promise  you  have  now  given  me  ?  Give 
me  a  solemn,  a  sacred  assurance  that 
you  will  not  break  it.  I  should  die  of 
despair  if  you  did." 

"  Evert,  shall  an  oath  be  needed  when 
you  have  my  word  "? " 

"  For  my  peace,  during  the  long  and 
painful  separation.  0  Ellen,  when  one 
loves  as  I  love,  he  is  jealous,  apprehen- 
sive, and  uneasy.  Ah,  you  do  not  wish 
me  to  be  pursued  by  these  tortures  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed  I  do  not,  Evert,  and  there- 
fore I  promise  by  my  mother's  memory 
never  to  take  back  the  promise  I  have 
now  given  you." 

"  Thanks,  angel ! " 

A  peculiarity  with  all  poetic  tempera- 
ments is  that  they  often  commit  great 
mistakes  with  regard  to  their  own  feel- 
ings, and  allow  the  impression  of  the 
moment  to  pass  for  all.  If  any  one 
speaks  to  their  fancy,  they  immediately 
believe  that  the  heart-strings  are  touched. 
Awake  their  compassion,  their  magna- 
nimity, and  your  victory  over  them  is 
decided.  These  children  of  the  moment's 
transport  can  never,  while  young,  analyze 
the  nature  of  their  feelings,  because  im- 
agination so  often  takes  their  place,  and 
the  fancied  impressions  are  as  vivid  as  the 
actual.  The  result  is  that  they  some- 
times believe  themselves  to  be  something 
very  different  from  what  they  are. 

Through  this  continual  effort  to  gov- 
ern herself  ever  since  childhood,  Ellen 
had  succeeded  in  overcoming  many  ex- 
tremes in  her  disposition,  in  curbing 
many  impetuous  and  fiery  feelings,  and 
in  consequence  of  this  she  believed  that 


20 


THE  WIFE   OF  A  VAIN   MAN. 


she  possessed  a  perfect  mastery  over  her 
heart,  and  that  it  would  never  beat 
more  violently  for  any  one  than  her 
reason  approved.  The  sense  and  mod- 
eration which  Ellen  had  succeeded  in 
gaming  through  this  daily  effort  to  con- 
trol all  outbursts  she  regarded  as  an 
evidence  that  she  could  not  experience 
any  emotions  of  a  strong  and  lively 
nature.  She  wished  to  be  a  woman  of 
mild  and  calm  feelings.  With  indiffer- 
ence had  she  received  the  homage  of 
all  the  young  men  who  competed  to 
win  her  heart.  She  had  found  them 
poor  in  spirit  and  empty  in  soul.  The 
man  whom  she  would  choose  must  be 
able  to  awake  her  interest  through  some 
prominent  intellectual  or  moral  worth. 
Evert  of  Ochard  had  succeeded  in  inter- 
esting her  through  his  animated  con- 
versation and  a  certain  wealth  of  ideas. 
He  had  read  a  good  deal;  and  if  his 
gifts  were  not  brilliant,  he  was  however 
sufficiently  well  endowed  to  dazzle  in 
society.  To  this  his  remarkably  good 
memory  contributed  veiy  essentially. 
Few  persons  possess  the  gift  of  express- 
ing themselves  about  all  that  they  have 
seen  and  read  in  so  agreeable  a  manner 
as  he.  He  knew  how  to  throw  warmth 
and  feeling  into  all  that  he  said,  to  give 
color  and  interest  to  the  most  insig- 
nificant things.  In  a  word,  our  Justice 
was  just  the  man  to  strike  the  fancy 
of  a  girl  who  considered  the  ability  to 
talk  well  to  be  the  same  as  a  superior 
understanding.  Ellen  regarded  him  as 
a  man  of  unusual  attainments,  with  a 
heart  open  to  all  that  was  noble  and 
beautiful.  Sympathy  grew  to  be  affec- 
tion, so  that  when  he  requested  her 
hand  she  deemed  herself,  after  a  careful 
examination  of  her  feelings,  as  strongly 
attached  to  him  as  it  was  possible  for 
her  to  be ;  and  with  the  full  intention 
of  making  him  happy  and  becoming  so 
herself,  she  consented  to  be  his  wife. 

It  is  certain  that  Ellen  would  never 
break  her  resolution  to  create  his  happi- 


ness, however  life  might  shape  itself  for 
her.  The  main  feature  in  Ellen's  char- 
acter, and  that  upon  which  Countess 
Rubens  laid  the  greatest  weight  in  her 
education,  was  a  deep  piety  and  a  true 
respect  for  duty.  This  was  the  surest 
counterpoise  to  an  overstrained  fancy, 
and  the  power  which  would  always  keep 
her  from  being  carried  away  by  her 
imagination.  Emy  could  not  take  the 
idealism  away  from  her  soul;  but  she 
had  given  it  such  a  direction  that  it 
would  be  a  shield  to  her  in  the  moment 
of  passion.  She  had  taught  her  to  as- 
pire to  the  good,  noble,  and  morally 
beautiful,  and  the  result  of  this  was 
that  the  young  girl  did  not  dream  about 
making  a  romantic  drama  of  her  life, 
but  regarded  it  as  an  ennobling  period 
for  a  higher  aim. 

And  now  we  will  return  to  the  thread 
of  the  story. 


Count  Rubens  intended  to  take  a 
journey  abroad  through  the  summer,  in 
order  to  consult  some  physicians  with 
regard  to  a  liver  complaint  with  which 
he  was  troubled.  Countess  Kerner  had 
invited  Ellen,  Ebba,  and  young  Arthur 
to  stay  at  Loda  during  the  two  months 
that  he  and  his  wife  were  to  visit  foreign 
lands,  —  an  invitation  which  Emy  had 
gladly  accepted. 

Eight  days  after  Ellen's  conversation 
with  Evert  and  the  solemn  promise  that 
their  wedding  should  be  celebrated  in 
October,  a  promise  of  which  she  had  told 
Countess  Emy,  and,  in  spite  of  all  the 
objections  on  her  part,  firmly  resolved 
to  fulfil,  we  find  Count  Rubens's  whole 
family,  Ellen  included,  at  Loda.  It  is 
the  afternoon  before  the  Count  and 
Countess's  departure  to  the  capital,  and 
Emy  and  Ellen  are  sitting  together  in  a 
little  cabinet. 

"  My  beloved  Ellen,  I  shall  now  for 
the  first  time  since  I  became  a  mother 
leave  my  children  for  quite  a  long  period, 


THE   WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


21 


and  it  is  with  a  peculiar  feeling  of  anx- 
iety that  I  separate  from  them,  especially 
Ebba.  She  is  at  the  age  when  the  need 
of  a  tender  mother  is  so  great.  Ellen, 
I  confide  her  to  your  care ;  watch  over 
her  during  these  months,  as  I  should 
do;  and  if  you  love  me,  then  let  me 
see  my  daiiing  as  glad  and  blooming  as 
ever  on  my  return.  Arthur  is  still  a 
child,  but  Ebba  is  a  young  maiden  of 
the  age  when  the  heart  is  most  easily 
impressed  and  is  liable  to  receive  a 
wound  that  may  never  be  healed." 

"  Be  calm,  dear  Aunt.  I  will  watch 
over  them  both,  and  so  faithfully,  that 
I  will  make  myself  their  very  conscience, 
their  hearts'  confidante ;  and  this  will 
not  be  difficult,  for  I  am  almost  a  part 
of  Ebba.  She  confides  every  thought  to 
me,  every  impression  that  she  experi- 
ences, and  I  shall  make  the  same  use 
of  all  that  she  tells  me,  as  I  believe  that 
you  would.  Ah,  I  shall  be  your  children's 
mother  while  you  are  away,  as  you  have 
been  to  me,  my  noble  foster-mother." 

"  Thanks,  my  Ellen  !  " 

The  next  morning  the  Rubens  left, 
and  there  was  more  than  could  be  ex- 
pressed in  the  look  with  which  Emy 
regarded  Ellen  as  she  whispered,  "God 
protect  you  ! "  The  next  moment  the 
horses  hastened  away  with  the  woman 
so  deeply  loved  by  all.  Ellen  remained 
standing  on  the  steps  and  looked 
after  the  retreating  carriage,  while 
Ebba,  dissolved  in  tears,  had  thrown 
herself  down  in  an  easy-chair  in  the 
saloon,  and  Arthur  with  great  effort 
struggled  against  his  rising  tears.  No 
tear  came  to  Ellen's  eyes,  no  sigh  es- 
caped her,  she  stood  perfectly  motion- 
less. When  the  carriage  had  disappeared 
from  her  sight,  she  repeated  in  a  whis- 
per, "Yes,  God  protect  us."  Then  she 
turned  to  go  into  the  saloon  and  comfort 
Ebba,  but  found  herself  at  that  moment 
right  before  Uno,  who  had  stood  behind 
her.  When  she  met  his  black  eyes, 
something  like  a  shudder  went  through 


her  heart,  and  she  would  have  wished  to 
fly,  far,  far  away,  but  instead  of  this  she 
passed  him  without  saying  a  word.  It 
was  an  inexplicable  oppression  which 
Ellen  experienced  at  the  sight  of  him, 
and  which  made  him  appear  to  her  as 
one  who  made  a  mockery  of  the  heart's 
deepest  feelings,  while  he  spoke  so  much 
of  the  respect  that  he  rendered  them. 
Ellen  tried  to  console  Ebba  with  her  kind 
and  hearty  words,  and  succeeded  so  well, 
that  Ebba  accepted  the  proposal  to  accom- 
pany Sappho,  Alma,  and  her  down  to  the 
park,  when  just  then  these  words  from 
the  balcony  met  her  ear,  — 

"  My  dear  Arthur,  will  you  allow  your- 
self to  be  so  deeply  depressed  by  the 
separation  from  your  parents,  when  you 
see  how  little  your  foster-sister  is  affected 
byiU" 

It  was  Count  Uno's  voice.  Ellen  col- 
ored, and  her  eyes  flashed  with  anger. 

Countess  Sappho  had  not  heard  tho 
Count's  words,  but  cried  to  Arthur  to 
come  with  them ;  and  then  they  all, 
with  the  exception  of  Uno,  went  down 
to  the  park. 


Two  weeks  had  elapsed  since  that  day, 
when  we  find  them  all  gathered  in  the 
garden.  Ebba,  Alma,  Arthur,  and  his 
teacher,  Magister  Dahl,  were  engaged  in 
arranging  some  plants  in  Arthur's  her- 
barium. Ellen,  Sappho,  Oscar,  and  Uno 
sat  at  a  little  distance  from  them. 

"  Have  you  looked  at  Magister  Dahl's 
face1?"  .inquired  Oscar,  turning  to  Uno. 
"It  is  one  of  the  most  intelligent  I  have 
seen." 

"  0  yes ;  but'  it  has  an  expression  of 
reserve  which  appears  to  me  repulsive," 
replied  Uno.  "I  cannot  endure  these 
persons  who  resemble  walled-up  graves, 
for  one  is  always  deceived  in  them.  Like 
the  grave  they  often  cover  only  worth- 
less bones,  while  we  others  imagine  that 
they  are  richly  gifted  souls.  The  much- 
praised  self-command  is  nothing  else 


22 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


than  a  mask  to  conceal  spiritual  pov- 
erty." Uno  had  his  gaze  fastened  on 
Ellen,  who  felt  extremely  incensed  when 
she  fancied  from  his  tone  that  the  words 
were  directed  to  her. 

"What  perverted  ideas,  dear  Uno," 
said  Sappho  with  spirit,  and  threw  her 
head  back  with  the  peculiar  motion  which 
with  her  always  indicated  bad-humor. 
"  Now  I  will  venture  the  assertion  that 
the  richer  our  natures  are,  the  stronger 
and  deeper  our  feelings,  the  more  care- 
fully do  we  conceal  them  within  our- 
selves. I  know  no  one  with  a  warmer 
heart  than  my  Oscar,  and  yet  what  a 
great  power  he  has  over  himself."  Sap- 
pho extended  her  hand  to  her  husband 
with  a  fascinating  smile. 

Ellen  looked  up  and  was  astonished  at 
the  expression  which  Uno's  eyes  took  at 
these  last  words  of  Sappho's  and  the 
motion  which  accompanied  them.  One 
could  say  that  his  look,  which  rested  a 
second  on  Sappho,  contained  something 
as  once  mocking  and  sad. 

"With  all  respect  for  Oscar's  self- 
command,  an  exception  is  nothing  to  the 
purpose.  And  if  all  distinguished  per- 
sons were  endowed  with  this  quality,  I 
would  still  detest  them.  I  love  to  read 
in  the  face  what  the  heart  feels,  to  count 
its  beats  and  interpret  its  emotions. 
The  one  who  is  only  led  by  his  inflexible 
will,  and  who  deals  out  his  feelings  in 
small  quantities,  inspires  in  me  a  sort  of 
fear  and  puts  me  at  a  distance." 

"  Then  you  prefer  a  surrender  to  the 
feelings.  Ah,  my  friend  !  you  ought  to 
have  known  me  twelve  years  ago,  and  I 
am  sure  you  would  have  been  completely 
cured  of  these  ideas,"  said  Sappho  laugh- 
ing. "  I,  on  the  other  hand,  consider 
the  man  pitiable  and  contemptible  who 
is  not  master  of  his  passions,  but  gives 
them  a  free  rein." 

"  With  men  the  reason  ought  to  pre- 
vail, with  woman  the  heart."  Uno  rose 
and  went  to  the  group  who  were  occu- 
pied with  their  botanical  operations. 


Sappho  leaned  against  Oscar  and  whis- 
pered some  tender  words  to  him.  They 
looked  very  happy.  Ellen  had  bent 
deeper  over  her  work.  Thoughts  of  an 
entirely  strange  and  unusual  nature 
arose  within  her,  and  she  asked  herself 
by  what  right  this  stranger  continually 
assailed  her  1  All  his  words,  even  upon 
the  most  trivial  subject,  took  the  charac- 
ter of  an  attack  against  her.  She  did 
not  consider  that  she  perhaps  allowed 
herself  to  be  influenced  by  her  enmity, 
and  through  this  applied  everything  to 
herself.  From  these  reflections  she  was 
roused  by  Sappho,  who  said,  — 

"Ellen,  dear,  improvise  some  verses 
upon  happiness." 

Ellen  looked  up,  and  when  she  found 
that  Uno  was  far  enough  away  not  to 
hear  her,  she  replied,  smiling,  — 

"Aunt,  Count  Uno  has  entirely  de- 
prived me  of  my  inspiration,  and  I  could 
not  improvise  four  lines  in  his  presence." 

"  And  why  ? "  asked  Oscar. 

"  I  cannot  explain  it  in  any  other  way 
than  that  an  antipathy  exists  between  us." 

"  But  Uno,  in  spite  of  his  peculiarities, 
is  a  chivalrous  and  uncommon  young 
man,  to  whom  you  would  yield  your 
respect  if  you  rightly  knew  hint" 

Ellen  looked  at  Sappho  and  said  with 
a  ravishing  smile,  — 

"How  good  Uncle  Kerner  is,  always 
to  wish  to  discover  the  better  qualities 
in  .every  person  !  I  assure  you,  Uncle, 
that  I  render  Count  Uno  all  my  respect, 
but  —  nothing  more." 

"  Ah,  indeed ;  well  then,  as  a  penalty 
you  shall  now  have  to  call  him  thou,"  said 
Oscar,  laughing. 

"  No,  for  God's  sake,  Uncle." 

"  There  is  no  help  for  it.  —  Uno  ! " 
cried  Count  Oscar. 

Uno  turned  round. 

"Come  here,  and  bring  the  young 
people  with  you." 

"  The  thought  has  struck  me,"  contin- 
ued he,  "  that  you  are  entirely  too  young 
to  be  called  uncle,  and  therefore  I  pro- 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


23 


pose  that  the  girls  shall  call  you  thou. 
As  Ellen  belongs  to  the  family,  I  have 
also  made  the  same  proposition  to  her,  so 
that  she  may  overcome  a  certain  disincli- 
nation that  she  has  for  yon." 

The  proposal  was  received  by  Uno  with 
a  pleasant  smile,  and  he  said  some  cor- 
dial words  to  Ebba,  after  which  Alma 
and  Ebba  gave  him  the  "  thou-kiss."  He 
then  approached  Ellen.  She  raised  her 
head  quickly  and  said  in  a  voice  that 
trembled  a  little,  —  * 

"  Permit  me  to  exclude  the  word  thou, 
an  appellation  altogether  too  familiar  be- 
tween us.  We  will  stop  at  calling  each 
other  by  name." 

Uno  reddened  and  looked  at  Ellen 
with  a  peculiar  glance  which  she  endured 
calmly.  He  recovered  himself  directly,  — 

"As  we  are  not  to  say  thou,  Ellen  must 
admit,  that  with  the  permission  to  call 
you  by  name,  I  am  allowed  to  kiss  your 
hand." 

Ellen  reached  him  her  hand  with  a 
gesture  at  once  graceful  and  dignified. 

"  Do  you  know,  Uno,  what  Ellen  has 
just  said  about  you?"  asked  Oscar. 

"No;  but  it  was  certainly  nothing 
flattering."  Uno  threw  himself  down  on 
a  seat  and  beat  the  leaves  from  a  bush 
with  his  cane. 

"  Nothing  ill ;  she  only  said  that  all 
her  inspiration  left  her  in  your  presence." 

"  Probably  in  consequence  of  the  antip- 
athy which  she  feels  towards  me." 

"  Or  rather,  in  consequence  of  the 
bitter  attacks  which  you  make  against 
inspiration,"  said  Sappho. 

"  Yes,  I  confess  that  I  do  not  believe 
in  it." 

"Why  not?"  Ellen  threw  out  the 
question  with  a  peculiarly  defiant  tone. 

"  Because  I  cannot  conceive  of  such  a 
phenomenon." 

"Then  you   are  not  entitled  to   pass 
judgment  upon  it.     That  which  we  do 
not   comprehend,    we   cannot  judge   of. 
You  are  consequently  convicted." 
L    "  If  that  is  so,  then  there  is  something 


between  us  which  can  be  called  antipa- 
thy." 

"  You  are  right." 

A  servant  arrived  with  the  mail-bag. 
Count  Oscar  opened  it,  and  gave  two 
letters  to  Ellen. 

"  From  your  betrothed  and  Emy,"  said 
he. 

Ellen  took  them  and  went  away. 

During  the  remainder  of  the  afternoon 
Uno  occupied  himself  almost  exclusively 
with  Ebba,  who  was  particularly  capti- 
vating, and  captivated  Uno  also  seemed 
to  be. 

Singularly  enough,  Ellen,  who  fol- 
lowed Ebba  and  Uno  with  the  watchful 
eye  of  a  mother,  found  a  certain  some- 
thing in  his  manner  which  called  up  the 
conviction  that  he  was  only  amused  by 
Ebba's  society,  and  that  she  had  not 
awakened  the  same  feelings  in  his  breast 
as  he  in  hers. 

One  evening,  some  weeks  subsequent 
to  Count  Rubens' s  departure,  Ellen  sat  on 
the  edge  of  Ebba's  bed,  after  the  latter 
had  retired. 

"Tell  me,  Ebba,  what  do  you  now 
think  of  Uno1?  Do  you  remember  how 
little  he  pleased  you  the  first  time  you 
saw  him  1 " 

"  I  recollect  it  very  well.  I  found  him 
ugly,  disagreeable,  and  mean." 

"Something  of  the  sort ;  but  now,  — 
how  do  you  find  him  now  1 " 

"  Handsome,  amiable,  and  good." 

"  Then  you  like  him  1 " 

"Hush,  wait  a  little,  Ellen."  Ebba 
sat  up  in  bed,  put  her  arm  around  Ellen's 
neck,  and  continued  :  "  Do  I  like  him  ? 
Yes,  very  much.  When  he  is  away,  it 
seems  to  me  less  pleasant.  When  he 
talks  to  me,  I  become  glad  and  feel  so 
satisfied.  Ah !  Ellen,  I  like  him  very 
much  better  than  Magister  Dahl,  Hen- 
rico,  and  the  others.  Don't  you?" 

"  No,  dear  Ebba,  I  do  not.  Henrico 
has  something  nobler  and  more  earnest, 
Dahl  is  milder  and  has  more  ability." 

"  May  be ;  but  as  I  have  many  faults 


24 


THE  WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


myself,  I  like  those  best  who  are  not 
perfect.  Say,  Ellen,  what  do  you  believe 
he  thinks  of  me  ?  " 

"  He  finds  you  to  be  a  lovely  child." 

"  Child  !  Ah,  one  is  not  a  child  at 
sixteen,  after  being  confirmed.  No, 
Ellen,  he  cannot  regard  me  as  a  child." 

"But  he  does,  nevertheless,  Ebba. 
The  preference  and  friendliness  which 
characterize  his  behavior  towards  you 
only  come  from  the  fact  that  he  consid- 
ers you  still  to  belong  to  childhood." 

"  But  Alma  is  a  year  younger  than  I, 
and  he  is  not  towards  her  as  he  is  to  me." 

"  Because  Alma  is  more  serious  than 
you.  Your  childish  vivacity  amuses  him." 

"Ellen  !  "  exclaimed  Ebba  hastily,  "  I 
do  not  like  you  to  talk  so.  I  do  not 
wish  him  to  consider  me  a  child." 

"  Do  yoxi  wish  me  to  speak  frankly  to 
you?"  asked  Ellen  in  a  voice  so  inex- 
pressibly gentle,  that  Ebba  kissed  her, 
saying,  — 

"  Forgive  me,  Ellen,  I  am  a  vain  fool, 
as  mamma  says.  Ah,  you  dear,  good  girl, 
you  are  right,  I  am  a  child,  and  ought 
not  to  feel  bad  over  it.  Papa  says,  child- 
hood is  the  season  of  joy." 

"Yes,  my  darling,  let  us  talk  about 
your  parents.  0,  if  we  had  them  here  !  " 

The  girls  clasped  their  hands  and 
leaned  their  bowed  heads  together.  A 
warm  and  fervent  prayer  united  their 
hearts. 


The  following  morning  Ellen  took  one 
of  her  early  walks.  One  of  her  fa- 
vorite enjoyments  was  to  stroll  around 
on  summer  mornings,  or  lie  outstretched 
in  the  luxuriant  grass,  listening  to  the 
song  of  the  birds  and  the  rustling  of  the 
leaves.  Entirely  oblivious  of  everything 
save  the  imagery  which  then  filled  her 
soul,  she  abandoned  herself  without  re- 
straint to  the  rich  world  of  imagination. 
In  order  to  enjoy  this  pleasure  undis- 
turbed, she  went  out  early,  before  the 
others  had  risen.  How  many  poetic  and 


delightful  longings  found  form  and  words 
during  these  solitary  rambles !  How  many 
warm  and  glowing  praises  to  the  Creator 
ascended  from  her  heart !  It  was  the  poet's 
soul,  free  and  untrammelled,  which  then 
expanded  and  breathed  out  all  its  exuber- 
ance. Poor  Ellen  !  why  wast  thou  not 
allowed  to  dream  and  idealize  in  some 
unnoticed  place  ]  Thy  tender  genius 
could  then  have  developed  in  all  its  man- 
ifold phases,  and  shone  like  a  clear  star 
over  thy  life ;  but  the  quiet  felicity  for 
which  thou  wast  created,  far  removed 
from  the  world's  wrestling-place  and  its 
miserable  passions,  was  never  to  become 
thine,  and  thou,  poor  poetical  girl !  wast 
not  to  be  allowed  to  remain  thyself. 

Now,  as  usual,  she  wandered  down  to 
the  park,  through  which  a  stream  flowed, 
shaded  on  both  sides  by  the  park's  luxu- 
riant trees.  The  hanging-birch  bent  its 
rich  crown  over  the  mirror-like  surface 
and  seemed  to  contemplate  its  foliage 
with  a  melancholy  smile.  With  slow, 
lingering  steps  and  a  dreamy  air  she 
walked  through  the  park,  where  the 
thrush,  bullfinch,  and  linnet  tuned  their 
carols.  A  smile  full  of  felicity  rested 
upon  her  features.  She  stopped  ever 
and  anon  as  if  to  inhale  in  full  draughts 
the  glorious  air,  full  of  perfume,  poesy, 
and  song.  On  coming  to  a  slope  en- 
closed by  trees  and  bushes,  she  clasped 
her  hands  and  sank  upon  her  knees  with 
her  gaze  lifted  to  heaven.  There  Avas 
something  transfigured  in  the  young  girl's 
face,  something  of  deep  and  holy  devo- 
tion, but  a  devotion  full  of  thankfulness 
and  youthful  rapture.  It  was  a  child's 
hopeful  prayer  to  its  Heavenly  Father. 
Had  an  human  eye  seen  her  at  this  mo- 
ment, it  would  certainly  have  found  her 
beautiful;  and  had  any  human  ear  lis- 
tened to  the  words  which  passed  over 
the  fresh  lips,  it  would  have  caught  them 
in  the  flight  to  preserve  them  for  poster- 
ity ;  but  God  alone,  to  whom  they  were 
addressed,  heard  them,  and  he  alone  saw 
the  gentle  suppliant.  The  next  moment 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


25 


she  rested,  dreaming  in  the  grass,  and 
tried  in  her  shifting  fancy  to  clothe  in 
words  the  song  of  the  birds  and  the  mur- 
mur of  the  water. 

She  would  probably  have  remained  in 
the  same  spot  all  day,  had  not  the  sound 
of  the  breakfast-bell  roused  her  from  the 
reveries  in  which  she  was  absorbed.  She 
drew  a  deep  sigh,  passed  her  hand  over 
her  brow,  and  rose,  turning  her  steps 
homeward.  She  went  through  the  gar- 
den, and  when  she  with  her  quiet  tread 
passed  the  lower  saloon,  the  windows 
of  which  opened  to  the  floor,  so  that  one 
could  see  all  that  took  place  within,  she 
met  a  sight  which  forced  her  to  stop. 
She  saw  Sappho  sitting  on  one  of  the 
small  sofas,  and  Uno  on  his  knees  before 
her.  Sappho's  aspect  was  sad,  serious, 
almost  indignant.  Uno's  features  she 
could  not  see.  The  young  girl  stood 
motionless  some  moments ;  she  then 
drew  back,  and  instead  of  going  past,  she 
went  round  another  way. 

At  breakfast  Sappho  was  thoughtful 
and  showed  herself  still  more  tender  and 
loving  to  Oscar.  There  was  something 
actually  humble  in  her  demeanor,  as  if 
she  had  wished  to  atone  for  some  injus- 
tice. Towards  Uno  her  manner  appeared 
somewhat  cold.  He,  for  his  part,  showed 
Ebba  the  same  friendly  attention  as 
usual,  laughing  and  jesting  with  her. 

After  breakfast,  Ellen,  Alma,  and  Ebba 
went  to  see  an  old  sick  woman  whom 
Ellen,  who  made  herself  acquainted  with 
all  the  sick  and  infirm  in  her  neighborhood 
(during  the  weeks  she  was  staying  at 
Loda),  had  taken  under  her  care.  But 
Loda  was  one  of  the  few  estates  which, 
through  the  owner's  humanity  and  con- 
sideration for  his  dependants,  was  not 
troubled  with  poverty. 

On  the  way  home  from  the  visit  to  the 
suffering  woman,  Ebba  proposed  that  they 
should  take  another  path,  so  that  by 
crossing  the  stream  on  a  plank  at  a  place 
where  the  water  formed  rapids,  they 
could  come  to  the  park,  a  favorite  spot 


with  the  three  girls.  They  turned  off 
into  the  wood  and  continued  their  way, 
chatting  merrily.  When  they  came  to 
the  plank,  Ellen  said,  — 

"  No,  girls,  we  dare  not  go  over  that ; 
see  how  frail  it  looks." 

"  0,  there  is  no  danger,  Mamsell  Ed- 
ling  "  (Alma's  governess),  "  and  I  went 
over  it  too  days  ago,"  exclaimed  Ebba,  and 
sprang  out  on  the  bridge. 

Ellen,  who  saw  the  weak  plank  bend, 
seized  hold  of  Alma,  who  intended  to  follow, 
and  checked  her.  Just  then  they  heard  a 
sharp  crack,  and  the  next  instant  Ebba  had 
fallen  into  the  water,  only  kept  above  the 
surface  by  her  clothing,  which  had  caught 
in  the  broken  plank.  Ellen  had  uttered  a 
cry  of  anguish.  Ebba  made  a  violent  effort 
and  with  this  tore  the  .dress,  so  that  the 
only  thing  which  held  her  up  gave  way 
and  she  disappeared  in  the  rapids.  But 
quick  as  thought  Ellen  had  started  out 
on  the  tottering  and  broken  plank. 
With  desperation  she  seized  hold  of  Eb- 
ba's  clothes,  which  yet  kept  her  from 
sinking.  She  lay  outstretched  on  the 
shaking  support,  and  summoned  all  her 
strength  to  hold  Ebba  up,  crying  to  Al- 
ma, who  wished  to  go  to  her  aid,  — 

"  For  God's  sake,  Alma,  do  not  come 
here;  for  then  we  are  all  lost."  Alma 
remained  weeping  on  the  bank. 

"  But,  Ellen,  you  will  never  be  able  to 
save  Ebba  alone." 

"  I  shall  do  it,  or  die  with  her,"  an- 
swered Ellen,  and  succeeded  in  getting 
Ebba's  head  above  water. 

"  Take  hold  of  my  hand,  Ebba,"  said, 
she. 

Without  rightly  knowing  what  she 
did,  Ebba  obeyed  the  direction  and  Ellen 
could  now  twine  her  arm  around  her 
waist  and  draw  her  up  on  the  timber 
which  swayed  under  the  heavy  burden 
and  threatened  to  drop  down  with  the 
two  girls. 

"  Reach  Ebba  your  hand,  Alma,  but 
without  stepping  on  the  wood,"  cried  El- 
len, who  knew,  as  she  lay  there  on  the 


26 


TEE  WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


ruins  of  the  extempore  bridge,  that  at  the 
slightest  imprudent  motion  on  her  part, 
or  the  first  attempt  to  raise  herself,  both 
she  and  Ebba  would  be  buried  in  the 
current. 

Ebba,  who  now  realized  completely  the 
danger  in  which  they  stood,  seized  Alma's 
hand  and  crept  to  the  bank  ;  but  careful- 
ly as  this  was  done,  the  plank  on  which 
Ellen  lay  gave  way  and  fell  into  the 
stream.  With  astonishing  coolness  Ellen 
had  calculated  this  chance,  and  in  the 
fall  seized  hold  of  a  pile  that  stood  in  the 
water,  while  she  cried,  — 

"  Be  quiet,  I  shall  certainly  help  my- 
self up." 

She  kept  her  word.  The  hold  she  took 
had  saved  her,  and  she  soon  stood  on 
land.  The  brave  girl's  strength  was  how- 
ever exhausted,  and  she  sank  down  on 
the  grass,  unable  to  hold  herself  up. 
Alma  and  Ebba  threw  themselves  weep- 
ing on  their  knees  beside  her. 

"Ellen,  sweet  Ellen,  how  is  it  with 
you?" 

But  Ellen  was  not  able  to  answer ; 
some  clear  drops  of  blood  were  seen  on 
her  lips,  and  directly  afterwards  a  crim- 
son stream  gushed  from  her  mouth. 
Ebba  was  in  perfect  despair,  wrung  her 
hands,  and  burst  into  violent  lamenta- 
tion. Alma  ran  down  to  the  stream  and 
brought  some  water  in  her  hat,  with 
which  she  bathed  Ellen's  temples,  and 
also  prevailed  xipon  her  to  swallow  a  few 
drops.  Finally  the  bleeding  ceased,  and 
Ellen  smiled  at  them  faintly. 

"  Ellen,  Ellen,"  sobbed  Ebba,  "  it  is 
my  thoughtlessness,  my  disobedience, 
which  have  caused  this  accident.  Ah, 
Ellen  !  my  whole  life  will  I  give  you ; 
I  will  obey  you  blindly.  Say  only  that 
you  forgive  me,  that  you  are  better,  that 
I  have  not  been  the  cause  of  your 
death." 

"  My  good  Ebba,  do  not  weep.  I  am 
better,  I  am  well  now  ;  I  am  not  angry 
with  you,  little  friend." 

When   Ellen   had   calmed   her  young 


companions,  they  returned  slowly  home. 
Ellen  supported  herself  on  Alma's  arm. 

"  Let  us  as  unobserved  as  possible 
steal  up  and  change  our  clothes,  so  that 
we  may  not  frighten  Aunt  and  Uncle,  and 
afterwards  we  will  relate  the  occurrence 
calmly." 

They  succeeded  but  partially,  for  Ebba 
and  Ellen  had  scarcely  gone  half-way  up 
the  first  flight  before  Oscar  and  Uno 
came  out  into  the  hall.  Alma,  who  con- 
stituted the  rear  guard,  thus  found  her- 
self face  to  face  with  them  when  the  door 
opened.  The  young  girl  had  undergone 
such  agony,  that  the  sight  of  her  beloved 
father  gave  her  an  inexpressible  joy,  after 
all  the  painful  feelings  she  had  experi- 
enced. She  paid  no  regard  to  Uno,  but 
sprang  to  her  father,  threw  herself  on 
his  neck,  and  exclaimed,  — 

"  Papa,  papa,  you  can  never  believe 
how  heroic  Ellen  has  been  !  " 

"  What  has  happened,  my  child  *? " 
asked  Count  Oscar,  caressing  her  bloom- 
ing cheeks. 

"  That  she  shall  tell  you  herself;  now 
I  will  go  up  to  her.  0,  if  I  could  one 
day  resemble  Ellen,  mamma,  you,  and  all 
those  who  are  good  !  " 

Alma  glided  from  her  father's  arms 
and  sprang  up  the  stairs. 

In  the  girls'  room  their  maid  was  help- 
ing them  to  change  their  clothes,  and 
they  had  just  finished  when  the  dinner- 
bell  called  them.  Sappho,  who  had 
been  to  visit  some  one  in  need,  came 
home  at  the  same  time. 

Half  an  hour  later  we  find  them  all 
assembled  in  the  dining-hall. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  Froken 
Ebba  1 "  inquired  Dahl  when  he  saw  the 
child,  who  was  still  very  pale. 

"  Good  heavens,  child,  what  has  hap- 
pened to  you  ! "  exclaimed  Sappho. 

"  Only  a  little  mischance,"  answered 
Ellen,  smiling  ;  "  and  if  you  permit, 
we  will  speak  of  it  in  private  after 
dinner." 

"  Ellen  does  not  wish  all  to  know  of 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


27 


her  heroism,"  observed  Oscar;  "I  am 
aware  of  your  fear  of  letting  people  know 
how  rich  and  self-sacrificing  your  heart 
is," 

"  Dear  Uncle  ! "  Ellen  said  no  more, 
but  the  look  which  she  gave  Oscar  said 
so  much  and  had  such  a  shy  expression, 
that  Uno,  whose  eyes  were  fastened  upon 
her,  was  astonished  that  this  cold  face 
could  acquire  so  much  soul. 

"  Then  I  will  keep  silent,"  said  Oscar, 
smiling. 

"  Unobtrusiveness  is  a  virtue  which 
always  becomes  its  possessor,  if  she 
rightly  employs  it,"  fell  in  Uno  with  his 
irritating  tone. 

"  And  with  it  I  wish  to  shine,  is  it  not 
so  ? "  said  Ellen,  looking  at  Uno. 

"We  all  more  or  less  wish  to  shine 
with  our  merits,  and  especially  with 
those  which  we  place  foremost." 

"  Then  I  know  a  virtue  which  I  place 
before  unobtrusiveuess,"  said  Ellen,  with 
unusual  spirit. 

"And  that  is?" 

"  To  think  well  of  others." 

"  And  this  virtue  I  lack  1  Was  that 
your  meaning  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know  what  virtues  you  lack 
or  possess." 

Uno  said  nothing,  and  they  soon  rose 
from  the  table.  The  young  folks  strolled 
around  the  garden,  but  Ellen  and  Sap- 
pho remained  in  with  Oscar. 

Quite  simply  Ellen  now  related  the 
event  of  the  forenoon,  entirely  omitting 
the  perilous  features  of  Ebba's  rescue, 
and  making  no  mention  of  the  hemor- 
rhage. 


Two  hours  after  this  Uno  approached 
Ellen,  as  she  was  sitting  alone  on  the 
balcony. 

"  I  fear  that  I  wounded  you  this  noon 
at  the  table,"  said  he;  "and  that  was 
not  my  intention." 

"  Indeed ;  what  then  was  your  inten- 
tion ? " 


"  To  express  my  opinion  that  every- 
thing that  is  studied  is  unnatural,  and 
seems  like  something  with  which  one 
wishes  to  shine." 

"  You  mean  to  say  by  this,  that  unob- 
trusiveness  with  me  is  studied  1 " 

"  You  are  too  proud,  permit  me  to 
say  too  conceited^  to  be  unassuming." 

"  And  what  leads  you  to  this  .conclu- 
sion 1 " 

'  "Your  whole  behavior;  your  antipa- 
thy to  me,  which  only  proceeds  from  the 
fact  that  I  do  not,  like  all  the  rest,  ad- 
mire your  genius.  You  are  wounded 
because  I  place  something  higher  than 
that." 

"  No.  I  have  not  striven  to  be  ad- 
mired, and  could  consequently  not  be 
wounded  at  not  obtaining  what  I  had 
never  sought." 

"  Ah  !  your  answer  now  best  proves 
that  pride  is  the  main  trait  in  your  char- 
acter ;  but  if  it  was  not  my  inability  to 
kneel  to  that  which  merely  dazzles,  what 
then  has  engendered  the  open  disfavor 
which  you  show  me  ^  " 

"  Perhaps  if  3rou  had  asked  me  yester- 
day I  should  have  answered  your  ques- 
tion, now  —  "  Ellen  looked  at  him  and 
became  silent ;  for  she  could  not  tell  him 
what  she  thought,  namely,  "  now  I  de- 
spise you  too  much.  You  kneel  to  your 
relative's  wife,  you  love  her,  and  you  are, 
in  a  word,  not  a  sufficiently  honorable 
man  for  me  to  desire  to  make  you  any 
explanation."  So  thought  Ellen. 

"I  beg  you,  speak  out." 

"  What  would  it  serve  1  We  are,  as 
you  yourself  said,  born  with  prejudices 
against  each  other." 

"  Then  you  will  not  tell  me  why  you 
find  it  difficult  to  endure  me  1 " 

"  Let  us  change  the  subject.  Have 
you  read  this  poem  1 "  Ellen  handed 
him  Oehlenschlager's  Axel  and  Wai- 
fa  org. 

"Ah,  you  desire  a  literary  conversa- 
tion 1 "  Uno  smiled  ironically. 

"  Not  at  all.     It  is  only  Axel's  charao- 


28 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


ter  which  I  would  recommend   you  to 
study."     Ellen  rose  to  go. 

"  And  the  reason  1  Is  it  his  faithful- 
ness which  you  consider  that  I  ought  to 
take  as  a  model  1 " 

"  Of  your  faithfulness  I  know  nothing, 
neither  havs  I  any  desire  to  remedy 
my  ignorance.  No,  it  is  Axel's  re- 
spect for  his  duty,  the  chivalrous  and 
elevated  spirit  in  all  his  actions,  which 
I  consider  to  be  a  worthy  study  for  ev- 
ery young  man,  especially  for  a  noble- 
man." 

"  Then  you  do  not  regard  me  as  one 
who  places  his  duty  above  all  else,  who 
possesses  a  chivalrous  character  ? " 

11  The  one  who  takes  the  position  that 
feeling  alone  ought  to  prevail,  is  a  slave 
to  his  passions." 

"  You  are  wrong,  Ellen.  I  love  every 
expression  of  pure  and  noble  feelings ; 
but  I  despise  every  surrender  to  low  and 
miserable  desires." 

"  Do  you  1 "  It  would  be  impossible 
to  give  the  peculiar  expression  with 
which  Ellen  uttered  these  words.  There 
was  something  of  commiseration,  some- 
thing of  contempt,  in  the  tone. 

Ebba  now  came  to  them,  saying  to 
Uno,  — 

"  Promise  me  that  you  will  do  what  I 
ask  of  you." 

"  Ebba,  I  will  not  only  do  what  you 
ask  of  me,  but  I  will  do  it  with  the  great- 
est pleasure,  even  if  it  were  to  travel  on 
foot  from  Haparanda  to  Ystad." 

"  Then  sing  for  us  some  Spanish  na- 
tional songs." 

"Yes,  if  you  can  persuade  Ellen  to 
sing  some  Swedish  ones  first." 

"  I  obtained  your  promise  without 
conditions,"  said  Ebba,  putting  her  head 
on  one  side. 

Uno  seized  her  hands  and  said  with 
warmth,  — 

"  I  will  do  it.  Ebba  has  me  for  what- 
ever she  desires." 

Ebba  blushed  so  beautifully  and  tripped 
into  the  saloon  to  announce  her  victory. 


Uno  rose  to  follow  her.     Looking  at  him 
sharply,  Ellen  said,  — 

"  Was  what  you  now  said  also  in  ac- 
cordance with  conscience  and  duty  ? " 
With  this  she  hastened  before  him  into 
the  saloon. 

A  moment  after,  Uno  sang  some  of 
those  sweet,  sentimental,  and  languishing 
Spanish  people's  songs,  in  which  there  is 
so  much  poesy,  and  a  melody  that  goes 
so  to  the  depth  of  the  heart,  that  one 
is  seized  with  a  longing  for  I  know  not 
what.  He  sung  them  with  a  fine,  sono- 
rous voice,  full  of  feeling,  and  accompa- 
nied himself  with  ease  upon  the  piano. 
It  was  the  first  time  that  Ellen  heard 
him  sing.  Leaning  back  in  an  easy- 
chair,  she  listened,  as  if  to  tones  from  a 
new  and  unknown  world.  She  fancied 
that  every  one  of  them  struck  a  new 
chord  within  her,  and  in  order  to  aban- 
don herself  entirely  to  these  impressions, 
she  closed  her  eyes.  The  singer  had 
disappeared,  and  she  imagined  that  this 
voice,  at  once  so  glowing  and  yet  so  de- 
lightfully soothing,  was  wafted  to  her 
from  a  higher  and  better  world.  She 
allowed  herself  to  be  transported  by  this 
tranquil  and  dreamy  sensation  so  peculiar 
to  her  temperament,  but  which  was 
destined  to  be  gradually  pressed  aside 
and  only  remain  in  the  depths  of  her 
soul  as  a  melancholy  longing. 

Poor  Ellen  !  how  many  times,  when 
I  have  seen  you  with  a  weary  look  and 
a  cold,  indifferent  air  dragged  from  one 
vain  and  foolish  pastime  to  another,  have 
I  not  pitied  you  and  thought  with  pain 
how  seldom  human  beings  are  allowed  to 
stay  in  the  place  for  which  they  seem 
created.  What  had  you,  with  your  rich 
soul,  which  longed  for  a  quiet,  unobserved 
happiness,  to  do  in  the  vortex  of  the 
world  1  You  stood  there  so  alone  and  so 
misunderstood  by  all. 

When  the  song  was  ended,  Ellen  still 
sat  there.  When  they  all  surrounded 
Uno  and  thanked  him,  Ellen  alone  re- 
mained motionless. 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


29 


"Well,  Ellen,"  asked  Sappho,  "will 
you  not  thank  Uno  for  the  pleasure  he 
has  afforded  us  1 " 

"  I  cannot  express  my  thanks  for  it," 
answered  Ellen,  giving  him  her  hand. 
"  The  pleasure  was  too  great  for  so  poor 
an  acknowledgment." 

At  these  words  there  was  a  flash  of 
light  in  Uno's  black  eyes,  and  they  rested 
on  Ellen  a  second  with  a  strange  expres- 
sion. 

"  That  was  praise  more  flattering  than 
any  which  my  singing  has  hitherto 
brought  me." 

"  Only  the  truth.     I  never  flatter." 

"  If  my  singing  has  afforded  you  an 
actual  pleasure,  then  grant  me  a  prayer," 
said  Uno. 

"  Ask  nothing  of  me,"  answered  Ellen 
quickly )  "  I  cannot  grant  you  any- 
thing." 

"  And  yet  I  beg  you,  sing  one  single 
Swedish  people's  song."  Uno  bent  a  knee 
to  Ellen,  who  was  sitting  in  the  same 
easy-chair  in  which  Sappho  sat  when  she 
had  seen  him  on  his  knees  before  her. 
Ellen's  face,  which  had  been  so  mild  and 
sweet  before,  became  in  an  instant  cold 
and  indifferent.  She  rose  and  said  in  a 
low  voice,  "  You  fall  on  your  knees  too 
often  and  too  easily."  Then  she  hastened 
out  on  the  balcony. 


In  the  afternoon  Ebba  had  a  fever  and 
a  severe  headache,  a  result  of  the  cold. 
The  next  day  she  was  obliged  to  keep 
her  bed.  Ellen  took  her  place  beside  her. 
Sappho  came  up  with  the  physician,  who 
declared  that  it  was  only  a  slight  cold, 
which  would  pass  over  in  a  few  days. 

•  */ 

"But  Mademoiselle  Kahn  looks  far 
more  ill,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  looked 
at  her  pale,  tired  face. 

"  Probably  lack  of  rest,"  answered 
Ellen,  smiling.  "  I  was  so  anxious  about 
Ebba  in  the  night." 

"Ellen  raised  blood  yesterday,"  said 


Alma,  who  was  sitting  on  a  stool  at  Ellen's 
feet. 

"  Blood !  "  exclaimed  the  Countess  and 
the  doctor  at  the  same  time. 

"  It  was  not  dangerous,"  said  Ellen. 
"  It  was  only  a  consequence  of  my  exert- 
ing myself  a  little." 

"Ah!  but  you  lost  so  much  blood, 
Ellen,"  rejoined  Alma,  sorrowfully. 

The  doctor  felt  her  pulse,  gave  a  pre- 
scription, and  added  the  warning  that  she 
should  keep  very  quiet. 

Some  days  elapsed,  during  which  Ellen 
and  Ebba  were  not  visible.  Little  or 
rather  nothing,  was  seen  of  Alma  and 
Arthur ;  for  where  Ellen  was,  there  were 
they  also. 

On  the  fourth  day  after  Ebba  was 
taken  sick,  she  was  up,  but  was  not  al- 
lowed to  leave  her  room.  Ellen  again 
looked  well  and  bright,  but  faithful  to 
the  responsibility  she  had  taken  upon 
herself  of  supplying  Emy's  place  to  her 
child,  she  did  not  leave  Ebba. 

Counts  Oscar  and  Uno,  Magister  Dahl 
and  Henrico,  were  sitting  on  the  balcony. 

"So  you  assert,  Magister  Dahl,  that 
nothing  of  pride  and  vanity  exists  in 
Mademoiselle  Kahn's  disposition  and 
character1?  That  she  shuns  all  notice 
and  rather  shrinks  from  attention  1 " 

"  Yes,  Herr  Count,  that  was  my  asser- 
tion, and  I  really  think  that  I  am  better 
qualified  to  judge  of  her  than  others  are, 
for  I  have  been  in  daily  contact  with  her 
for  seven  years.  A  more  retiring  and 
sensitive  nature  than  hers  I  have  never 
met.  Endowed  with  a  poet's  soul  and  a 
poet's  ability,  she  is  afraid  to  let  any  on^ 
suspect  all  the  wealth  of  her  nature.  I 
have  been  her  teacher,  and  I  can  say 
without  exaggeration  that  the  pupil  often 
confounded  the  teacher  with  her  penetra- 
tion. You  would  be  amazed  if  you 
could  look  into  her  soul  and  see  the 
amount  of  knowledge  that  she  has  ac- 
quired, and  yet  is  there  anything  of  the 
'blue  stocking'  in  her1?  " 

"  No ;  but  still  there  is  an  inner  con- 


30 


THE  WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


sciousness  of  her  own  superiority,  a  high 
opinion  of  her  own  intellectual  advan- 
tages, which  makes  her  lightly  esteem 
woman's  sphere,  and  consider  it  beneath 
her  dignity  to  have  a  heart." 

Uno's  three  hearers,  who  had  all  known 
Ellen  from  childhood,  burst  into  a  laugh, 
as  if  they  had  found  what  he  said  so 
ridiculous  that  it  did  not  deserve  any- 
thing but  laughter. 

"  My  dear  Uno,  you  seem  perfectly  de- 
termined to  charge  Ellen  with  faults 
which  she  has  never  possessed." 

"  It  is  possible  that  I  am  mistaken  ; 
but  I  should  be  willing  to  bet  a  good 
deal  that  she  would  never  be  able  to 
throw  herself  into  any  danger  from  devo- 
tion ;  she  has  too  much  regard  for  her- 
self for  that," 

"  Fie,  Uno,  how  wicked  you  are !"  burst 
out  Alma,  who  had  stood  in  the  door  and 
heard  the  whole  conversation.  "You 
ought  to  have  seen  her  when  she  helped 
Ebba,  how  she  tried  to  save  her  without 
any  thought  of  herself.  And  then  when 
she  raised  blood  from  the  violent  exer- 
tion, how  mild  and  angelic  she  was,  while 
Ebba  was  in  perfect  despair.  I  have  al- 
ways seen  Ellen  manifest  a  goodness  far 
greater  than  any  one  else  has  given  proof 
of,  and  yet  you  say  that  she  has  no  heart. 
How  well  she  took  care  of  the  old  servant 
at  Holmvik,  rode  after  the  doctor  her- 
self, and  attended  to  her  as  if  the  old  wo- 
man had  been  her  mother ;  and  while 
she  was  doing  all  this,  you  others  were 
only  finding  fault  with  her.  I  heard  all 
that  you  and  Ochard  said." 

"  I  believe  that  you  are  angry  with 
Uno,"  exclaimed  Oscar,  laughing. 

"  Yes,  papa,  am  I  not  right  ] " 

"  Perfectly,  my  child." 

"And  I  shall  have  to  lay  down  my 
arms,"  said  Uno. 

"  I  think  each  and  all  who  attack 
Ellen  will  be  obliged  to  do  that,"  ob- 
served Henrico,  with  a  slight  blush,  "  and 
yet  she  is  not  perfect  by  any  means. 
The  charm  of  her  character  lies  just  in 


the  fact  that  she  has  a  multitude  of 
small  faults,  which  make  her  like  other 
people." 

"And  what  then  are  these  faults?  I 
almost  believed  that  you  had  all  con- 
cluded to  regard  her  as  a  saint." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Dahl,  smiling.  "  As 
a  pupil  she  was  very  capricious  and 
often  intractable.  If  she  took  a  notion 
to  devote  herself  exclusively  to  history, 
it  was  next  to  impossible  to  get  her  to 
give  any  attention  to  other  subjects 
before  she  had  been  allowed  to  follow 
her  fancy  for  several  days.  Then  she 
would  come  to  me  and  say,  'Are  you 
angry  with  me,  my  teacher]  Do  not 
be  so,  I  will  now  study  whatever  you 
desire.'  At  other  times  she  did  not 
study  at  all,  but  spent  hours  in  only 
playing  and  dreaming,  and  then  it  was 
impossible  to  force  her.  Besides  Ellen 
is  stubborn.  You  will  never  succeed  in 
changing  any  conviction  of  hers,  even  if 
it  is  false.  She  easily  forgives  injustice, 
but  she  does  not  forget  that  you  com- 
mitted it.  That  is  to  say,  if  you  have 
judged  her  actions  wrongly,  she  will 
pardon  it,  but  it  would  be  impossible  to 
persuade  her  that  you  could  ever  judge 
her  rightly.  Moreover,  she  is  often  led 
by  her  fancy,  and  ascribes  qualities  to 
people  which  they  utterly  lack,  if  they 
only  succeed  in  striking  any  of  her  no- 
bler instincts.  She  can  have  the  utmost 
mildness,  charity,  and  toleration ;  but 
yet  be  severe  and  bitter,  if  you  offend 
her  ideas  of  right.  For  that  which  she 
considers  right  she  will  sacrifice  herself 
without  complaint.  Such  is  Ellen." 

"  I  would  like  to  resemble  her,  even 
in  her  faults,"  said  Alma.  "  Do  you  not 
wish,  papa,  that  I  was  like  her  1 " 

"No,  my  child,  I  would  have  you 
just  as  you  are." 

Soon  after  Uno,  a  condemner  of  all 
revery,  wandered  through  the  park  a 
dreamer  himself,  and  thought  of  Axel's 
character  in  Oehlenschlager's  tragedy. 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN". 


31 


In  a  few  days  Ebba  was  completely 
recovered.  One  morning  after  breakfast 
Ellen  had  gone  down  to  the  park ;  when 
she  returned  and  was  about  to  enter  the 
saloon,  she  heard  Sappho  say,  — 

"  I  forgive  you,  Uno ;  but  only  from 
love  to  Oscar.  Because  you  are  his  rela- 
tive, I  will  forget  that  you  have  wounded 
me  so  deeply." 

"Thanks,  dear  Sappho,  and  believe 
me  when  I  solemnly  assure  you  that  I 
would  give  much  if  this  unfortunate 
declaration  had  never  passed  my  lips.  I 
admire  you  and  shall  never  forget  you." 

"  Enough  !  We  are  thus  friends  again." 
Sappho  gave  him  her  hand,  and  Ellen 
stepped  in. 

In  the  afternoon  Uno,  Ebba,  and 
Ellen  amused  themselves  by  playing 
graces.  Count  Arthur,  Alma,  and  Ar- 
thur had  taken  a  walk  down  to  the 
iron  furnace.  Henrico  had  gone  away, 
and  the  Countess  sat  in  the  saloon,  en- 
gaged in  an  animated  conversation  with 
Magister-Dhal. 

Ebba  was  in  high  spirits.  She  threw 
the  hoop  high  and  let  it  describe  a  mag- 
nificent circle,  as  she  exclaimed,  — 

"  Let  us  see,  Uno,  if  you  can  catch  it  1 " 

Uno  caught  it,  and  said,  — 

"  How  could  you  think  that  I  should 
fail  when  you  threw  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  do  not  keep  it  but  throw  it  to 
Ellen,"  cried  Ebba  with  a  beaming  look. 

"  I  will  either  keep  it,  or  send  it  back 
to  you."  Uno's  glance  rested  on  Ebba 
with  a  peculiar  delight,  but  flitted  for  a 
second  from  her  to  Ellen,  who  stood 
motionless,  leaning  on  her  stick. 

"Then  throw  it  here,"  said  Ebba, 
"  and  let  us  finish." 

Uno  complied  with  her  desire,  but  the 
warm  and  animated  glances  were  no 
longer  fastened  on  Ebba.  The  young 
girl  did  not  observe  this,  however,  in  her 
effort  to  catch  the  hoop. 

"  Ah,  I  have  missed  it,"  she  exclaimed 
in  a  troubled  voice.  At  the  same  instant 
the  hoop  fell  at  her  feet  and  she  lowered 


her  sticks  with  an  expression  of  sadness ; 
a  tear  trembled  in  her  eye. 

Uno  hastened  forward,  picked  up  the 
hoop  and  handed  it  to  Ebba,  saying,  — 

"  It  considers  it  the  right  place  to  lie 
at  Ebba's  feet." 

"  Thanks,  thanks,"  stammered  Ebba, 
blooming  as  a  rose  and  glad  as  a  bird. 
She  took  the  hoop  and  hurried  into  the 
saloon. 

Ellen  and  Uno  found  themselves  alone 
on  the  open  lawn. 

"Shall  we  follow  Ebba?"  asked  Uno. 

Ellen  approached  him,  saying  with 
deep  earnestness,  — 

"  Uno,  you  are  playing  a  dangerous 
game." 

"  What  do  you  refer  to  ? "  Uno's  eyes 
sank  before  Ellen's  gaze. 

"  You  are  exerting  all  your  power  to 
make  Ebba  love  you,  —  that  charming 
child,  whose  heart  flies  to  meet  you  with- 
out distrust.  You  act  wrongly  !  " 

"Why,  Ellen?  Tell  me!"  What 
was  it  in  Uno's  voice  that  brought  a  fine 
rosy  hue  to  Ellen's  cheeks  1  Was  it  the 
peculiar  trembling?  We  cannot  say; 
but  what  we  do  know  is,  that  she  raised 
her  head  a  little  as  if  indignant  at  the 
blood's  agitation,  and  answered,  — 

"  Because  you  do  not  love  her." 

"And  who  then  do  I  love  ?  "  Uno 
seized  Ellen's  hand  as  if  to  keep  her,  but 
dropped  it  directly,  for  all  emotion  had 
disappeared  from  her  face  and  she  looked 
at  him  with  a  calm  and  steady  expression. 

"  That  question  your  own  heart  will 
answer  best,  if  you  will  listen  to  it,  and 
not  play  with  others'  hearts  for  pastime. 
Ebba  is  too  good  for  such  trifling." 

"  Is  she  too  good  to  become  my  wife  ? " 
asked  Uno  coldly. 

"  Yes,  when  you  can  only  offer  her 
your  hand  and  not  your  heart." 

"  But  I  intend  to  offer  her  my  heart." 

Ellen  threw  her  head  back  and  said 
with  stern  earnestness,  "  Can  you  do  it  ? " 

These  words,  this  so  simple  question, 
seemed  to  drive  the  blood  in  a  swift 


32 


THE  WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


course  through  Uuo's  veins,  for  he  made  a 

hasty  motion  of  the  head,  and  asked  in  a 

tone  that  sounded  almost  angry,  — 

"  And  what  should  hinder  me  1 " 

"  Your  honor.     You  cannot  offer  Ebba 

what  you  do  not  possess."     Ellen  went 

in.     Uno  stood  still  and  looked  after  her 

with  an  expression  that  reminded  one  oi 

Vesuvius  in  an  eruption. 

"  Has  she  guessed  my  secret  1 "  mut- 
tered he.  "  No,  I  have  scarcely  be- 
trayed it  to  myself." 


That  evening  we  again  find  Ellen  sit- 
ting on  the  edge  of  Ebba's  bed. 

"  Ebba,  do  you  know  what  your  moth- 
er said  when  she  went  away  1 "  began 
Ellen. 

"  No,  but  tell  me,  dear  Ellen." 

"  She  bade  me  watch  over  you  as  if 
you  were  my  own  child,  and  give  you 
back  to  her  as  joyous  and  happy  as  ever. 
I  promised  to  do  so,  and  now  I  fear  that 
I  shall  not  be  able  to  keep  my  word. 
This  would  trouble  me  deeply." 

"  Am  I  then  not  as  joyous  as  I  used  to 
be  1 "  asked  Ebba  with  downcast  eyes. 

11  0  yes,  but  your  happiness  no  longer 
proceeds  from  yourself,  but  depends  upon 
another.  How  restless  you  were  those 
days  that  you  were  compelled  to  keep 
your  room  !  Why  were  you  so  ?  Tell 
me." 

"  I  wished  to  see  Uno,"  answered  Ebba 
looking  her  foster-sister  frankly  in  the 
eye.  Ellen  bent  down  and  kissed  her. 

"  Tell  me  now,  what  is  your  feeling  for 
Uno." 

"  I  like  him  very  much,  and  have  an 
inexpressible  desire  that  he  should  like 
me  most  of  all." 

"And  if  he  did  not?" 

"  I  should  feel  sorry." 

"But  you  would  then  think  less  of 
him?" 

"  Perhaps.  I  think  I  should  be  angry 
with  him." 


"  Then  you  believe  he  is  very  fond  of 
you  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  certainly  do." 

"But,  Ebba,  with  my  hand  on  my 
heart  I  can  solemnly  assure  you  that  he 
does  not  love  you."  Ellen  took  both 
Ebba's  hands  in  hers  and  pressed  them  to 
her  heart.  "  Do  not  turn  pale,  child,  do 
not  look  so  sad,  but  believe  me,  when  I 
swear  in  the  name  of  God  that  Uno  loves, 
—  but  not  you.  0,  do  not  weep  dear 
child  !  Think  of  your  mother,  think  of 
me,  and  do  not  fasten  your  heart  to  this 
man,  who  cannot  give  you  his." 

A  few  tears  had  quickly  run  down 
Ebba's  cheeks,  but  she  dried  them  im- 
mediately. 

"Ellen,  are  you  sure  of  what  you 
say  1 " 

"  Perfectly ;  or  do  you  think  that  I 
would  tell  you  what  I  did  not  know  with 
certainty  to  be  true  ? " 

"  Thanks  !  "  Ebba  twined  her  arms 
about  Ellen's  neck.  "  Thank  you,  my 
Ellen,  and  now,  good  night !  " 

Ebba  lay  still  and  quiet  for  an  hour, 
but  then  she  cried  to  Ellen,  — 

"  Are  you  asleep  ?  " 

"  Not  yet ;  we  have  not  said  our 
prayers,  Ebba.  I  waited  for  you  to  speak 
of  it." 

Ebba  now  lifted  her  heart,  touched  by 
sorrow,  to  God  ;  Ellen  prayed  also  for  her 
beloved  foster-mother's  child;  and  then 
they  both  fell  asleep. 


The  next  day  Uno  sat  with  Ellen, 
who  had  her  work  out  on  the  terrace. 

"  You  have  several  times  uttered  words 
;o  me,  Ellen,  which  I  do  not  rightly  un- 
derstand, and  particularly  last  evening. 
Give  me  an  explanation  of  them.  As 
hey  concern  me,  my  request  is  reason- 
able." 

"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  explain  1 " 

"Your  assertion,  for  example,  that  I 
)layed  with  Ebba's  heart." 


THE   WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


33 


"And  I  still  assert  it.  You  do  not 
love  this  innocent  child,  and  yet  you 
throw  so  much  tenderness  into  your 
manner  towards  her,  that  she  as  well 
as  every  one  else  could  believe  in  this 
attention." 

"But  this  tenderness  is  not  false. 
From  the  first  moment  I  saw  Ebba,  I 
have  had  but  one  desire,  and  that  is  to 
call  her  my  wife.  This  charming  child, 
as  you  have  very  correctly  called  her, 
•whose  every  feeling  may  be  read  in  her 
face,  whose  heart  lies  on  her  lips,  appears 
to  me  so  lovely,  that  I  fancy  happiness 
to  be  inseparable  from  her  side.  So  I 
thought  at  our  first  meeting,  so  I  think 
at  the  present  moment, 

Ellen  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and 
looked  at  him  earnestly,  almost  sadly. 

"  Do  you  actually  mean  to  say  that 
you  love  Ebba1?"  This  question  was 
uttered  with  a  certain  deliberation. 

"  No,  not  a»  my  heart  would  like  to 
love  her," 

"Not  even  as  it  can  love." 
"Ellen!"    exclaimed  Uno,  and  again 
there  was  a  flash  of  light  in  his  eyes. 

"  Would  you  doom  Ebba  to  the  sad  lot 
of  being  the  wife  of  a  man  who  could  only 
give  her  the  second  place  in  his  heart]" 

"No,  I  would  not  do  it  now.  Your 
words  yesterday  awakened  in  me  the 
thought  of  how  contemptible  it  would  be 
to  sacrifice  her  happiness  for  my  own ; 
for  I  shall  never  be  able  to  love  Ebba 
as  I  love  —  " 

"  Sappho  !  "  exclaimed  Ellen  involun- 
tarily ;  but  scarcely  had  the  word  passed 
her  lips  before  she  repented  it,  and  she 
would  have  recalled  it  at  any  price. 

Uno  started  and  looked  at  Ellen  as 
if  he  doubted  that  he  had  heard  aright. 

"  Sappho  !  my  relative's  wife  !  You 
have  thus  considered  me  capable  of  such 
baseness]  I  had  however  believed  that 
you  regarded  me  as  an  honorable  man." 
There  was  something  simple  and  digni- 
fied in  Uno's  whole  bearing  which  pow- 
erfully impressed  Ellen. 


"Could  I  have  done  you  injustice? 
Could  I  £have  been  mistaken  1 "  ex- 
claimed Ellen,  and  offered  him  her  hand. 
"  Forgive  me  ! " 

"How  easy  to  forgive  you,  Ellen!" 
replied  Uno  with  emotion.  "  You  have 
been  cruelly  mistaken  in  the  object  of 
my  love ;  but  you  were  right  in  saying 
that  I  did  not  love  Ebba."  Uno  kept 
Ellen's  hand  in  his,  and  the  young  girl 
fancied  that  she  heard  her  heart  beat. 
She  drew  her  hand  gently  from  his. 
Both  were  silent.  Ellen  bent  down  over 
her  work.  Uno  wrote  in  the  sand  with 
his  cane. 

"  What  led  you  to  the  thought  that  I 
loved  Sappho  ] "  asked  Uno  at  length. 

"  I  saw  you  kneel  before  her,"  stam- 
mered Ellen. 

"  Ah  !  how  appearances  can  deceive ! " 
Again  they  both  kept  silence. 

Ellen's  eyes  fell  unintentionally  upon 
that  which  he  wrote.  Uno's  cane  had 
stopped  under  a  name  which  he  had 
written  in  the  sand,  as  if  he  pointed 
to  it.  Ellen  hastily  turned  away  her 
head,  rose,  and  went  in. 

Uno  effaced  the  word  written  in  the 
sand,  and  sat  there  a  long  time  absorbed 
in  thought. 

Later  in  the  evening  he  approached 
Ellen,  saying,  — 

"  Shall  I  never  be  allowed  to  hear  you 
sing1?  Sing  this  evening." 

"When  my  betrothed  comes  back, 
then  I  will  sing,"  replied  Ellen,  without 
looking  up  from  her  work. 

Uno's  glance  darkened  and  he  left  her. 

That  evening,  after  all  had  retired, 
Ellen  wrote  a  postscript  to  a  letter  to  her 
betrothed.  It  contained  these  words,  — 

"  My  friend,  come  as  soon  you  can. 
I  feel  a  great  need  of  seeing  you  again." 


The  three  weeks  which  remained  before 
Evert  could  ceme  to  Lb'da  passed  without 
anything  noteworthy.  Uno  carefully 


34 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


avoided  Ellen,  and  had  in  his  manner 
towards  Ebba  assumed  something  of  the 
uncle.  The  cordial  intimacy  had  disap- 
peared; he  no  longer  took  part  in  the 
young  people's  games,  but  accompanied 
Oscar  upon  his  excursions,  and  went 
hunting  with  him  and  the  neighbors. 
He  was  with  the  ladies  very  seldom, 
except  at  meals.  All  saw  this  change, 
but  no  one  attached  any  importance 
to  it. 

Lieutenant  Henrico  and  Magister  Dahl, 
instead,  exerted  all  their  power  to  en- 
liven the  others,  and  succeeded.  Ebba 
did  not  trouble  herself  at  all  about 
Uno's  absence,  but  was  joyous,  full  of 
life,  and  now  as  ever  Magister  Dahl's 
most  unmanageable  and  most  beloved 
pupil.  Henrico  was  polite,  cordial,  some- 
times tender,  towards  Ellen;  but  there 
was  something  so  brotherly  in  this 
friendliness,  that  she  received  and  re- 
sponded to  it  without  distrust. 

One  day  at  breakfast,  when  the  post 
.-arrived,  Ellen  received  a  letter  from 
,Evert.  She  went  to  one  of  the  saloon 
-.windows  and  opened  it. 

"  Well,  when  is  Ochard  coming  1 "  in- 
r  quired  Oscar. 

"  In  two  days,"  replied  Ellen. 

Magister  Dahl  took  his  hat  and  left 
the  dining-hall.  Uno  went  into  the  sa- 
loon, placed  himself  at  the  instrument 
and  played  a  storm  march. 

One  glorious  moonlight  night  in  Au- 
gust, when  they  had  all  gone  for  a 
promenade  in  the  park,  Ellen  remained 
at  home  alone,  because  she  felt  tired 
and  a  little  low-spirited  besides.  After 
the  others  had  gone,  she  seated  herself 
at  the  piano  and  abandoned  herself  with 
her  whole  heart  to  the  fancies,  which  in 
a  variegated  throng  marched  through  her 
soul.  She  tried  through  tones  to  give 
them  form.  The  servant  would  have 
closed  the  glass  doors  to  the  terrace  and 
lighted  the  candles,  but  Ellen  wished  to 
sit  in  the  moonlight  and  inhale  the 
balmy  fragrance  from  the  garden. 


While  she  gave  herself  up  to  the 
dreamy  delight  of  the  hour,  the  prome- 
naders  had  strolled  round  the  park  and 
returned.  The  young  people,  with  Alma's 
governess,  decided  to  go  to  the  furnace 
to  see  the  ore  run.  The  Count,  Count- 
ess, and  Uno  went  into  the  garden.  Tho 
weather  was  so  magnificent  and  warm, 
that  Sappho  drew  Oscar  down  on  a  bench 
under  a  pair  of  poplars,  from  whence  one 
saw  the  dam  shadowed  with  trees  and 
shrubs,  in  whose  mirror-like  water  the 
moon  bathed  its  face.  Sappho,  who  still 
loved  her  husband  with  the  same  ardent 
love  as  in  youth,  was  glad  to  sit  and 
dream  at  his  side,  especially  on  such  a 
beautiful  summer  evening.  She  then  in 
double  measure  enjoyed  her  happiness, 
continually  the  same  and  yet  continually 
new. 

When  Sappho  and  Oscar  seated  them- 
selves in  the  garden,  Uno  said,  — 

"  As  I  am  not  a  dreamer,  allow  me  to 
leave  you  to  the  God  of  solitude  and 
love."  Then  he  went  up  to  the  house, 
but  stopped  on  the  terrace  and  listened. 
In  the  saloon  a  sweet  and  wonderful 
voice  sang  the  last  strophe  of  a  ballad  : 

"And  the  song,  it  flew  over  the  waves." 

The  tones  died  away  gradually,  like  a 
sigh  full  of  melody. 

"  Ellen,"  whispered  a  voice  behind  the 
singer,  "  sing  that  song  again.  0,  do 
not  refuse  me  the  only  prayer  that  I 
shall  ever  address  to  thee  I " 

Ellen  turned  round,  and  the  moon's  rays 
fell  on  Uno's  face.  There  was  not  now 
that  singular  Southern  flame  in  his  eyes 
which  had  sometimes  almost  frightened 
her ;  there  lay  in  them  a  prayer,  touch- 
ing and  sorrowful.  A  slight  trembling 
passed  through  her  whole  being  at  the 
"  thee  "  which  he  uttered  so  beseechingly. 
The  young  girl  knew  the  danger  of  this 
moment,  and  in  order  to  fly  it,  she  let 
her  hands  glide  over  the  keys  and  then 
repeated  the  ballad,  whose  close  Uno 
had  heard. 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


35 


With  his  hands  resting  on  the  back 
of  her  chair,  Uno  listened  with  bated 
breath  to  this  sweet  and  melting  voice. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  his  heart  softened 
and  became  gentle  and  pure  as  a  child 
while  these  tones  soothed  his  ear.  Again 
the  song  died  away  and  "  flew  over  the 
waves." 

"Thanks,  Ellen,"  faltered  Uno,  and 
Ellen  fancied  that  his  breath  touched 
her  hair.  When  she  rose,  he  was  gone. 
Slie  went  to  the  window,  clasped  her 
hands,  and  whispered  a  silent  prayer  to 
the  Father  above. 

Two  days  subsequent  Evert  clasped 
his  betrothed  to  his  heart.  Ellen  stole 
to  him  with  a  shy  and  tender  glance. 
Perhaps  never  before  had  he  been  so 
heartily  greeted  by  his  betrothed  as  this 
time. 

Evert  stayed  at  Loda,  and  Ellen  ap- 
peared to  him  more  friendly  and  tender 
than  ever.  A  week  elapsed.  Uno  had 
the  day  before  Evert's  arrival  gone  to 

Baron  G 's  and  had  not  yet  returned, 

when  a  letter  came  saying  that  they 
could  expect  Count  Rubens  back  in  a 
few  days.  Count  Oscar  and  Evert  went 
to  Holmvik  early  the  next  morning. 

After  they  had  gone,  Ellen,  faithful  to 
her  favorite  habit,  went  down  to  the 
park.  On  reaching  a  hillside  at  the  edge 
of  the  stream,  where  she  was  fond  of 
dreaming  away  an  unobserved  moment, 
she  stopped,  for  before  her  lay  a  young 
man  outstretched  on  the  grass.  His 
face  was  turned  away,  but  in  the  black 
curly  hair  and  the  slender  frame  she 
recognized  Uno.  She  was  just  going  to 
draw  back,  when  an  object  which  raised 
its  head  from  the  grass  and  seemed  to 
wish  to  take  a  promenade  up  the  young 
man's  bare  throat,  caused  her  to  utter  a 
faint  cry ;  but  when  Uno  at  this  turned 
round,  she  cried,  — 

"For  God's  sake,  be  still,  Uno.  I 
entreat  thee,  do  not  move,  —  from  mercy," 
added  she  as  he  made  a  motion  with  his 
hand  to  lean  it  on  the  lower  part  of  the 


snake,  which  crawled  close  by  him  and 
had  a  glittering  eye  for  the  exposed 
throat. 

With  a  few  light  steps  the  fearless  girl 
was  at  his  side.  She  had  wrapped  her 
handkerchief  around  her  right  hand,  and 
seizing  the  snake  rashly  by  the  middle, 
she  flung  it  into  the  stream.  When  she 
threw  herself  down  on  her  knees  beside 
Uno,  she  supported  her  left  hand  against 
his  shoulder  while  she  despatched  the 
snake,  without  heeding  the  familiarity  of 
the  position  she  had  taken.  When  the 
danger  was  over,  she  turned  her  face,  pale 
from  anxiety,  to  Uno,  asking,  — 

"  Uno,  you  are  unhurt  1 " 

"  Yes,  through  thee"  He  seized  her 
right  hand,  the  left  still  rested  on  his 
shoulder.  At  the  sound  of  the  warm 
voice  and  this  thee,  it  was  as  if  Ellen  had 
come  back  to  herself;  she  took  her 
hand  away  hastily  and  would  have  drawn 
back. 

"  Stay  a  moment  only,"  said  Uno  be- 
seechingly ;  "  seat  yourself  at  my  side. 
Oh  ! "  He  checked  himself,  carried  her 
hand  to  his  lips  and  whispered  :  "  Thanks, 
angel !  "  Then  he  sprang  up.  They  now 
stood  beside  each  other.*  She  would 
have  gone,  but  he  said,  "  I  will  leave 
here  to-morrow.  But  until  my  death 
shall  I  preserve  the  remembrance  of  this 
morning  and  —  my  saviour."  He  took 
her  two  hands,  and  pressed  them  violent- 
ly as  he  added  :  "  Will  Ellen  also  think 
of  this  moment  sometimes;  think  of 
Uno  ? " 

"  I  will,"  faltered  she. 

"  That  is  all  I  have  the  right  to  ask, 
to  hope."  Uno's  lips  pressed  a  hot  kiss 
on  each  of  her  hands,  and  then  he  re- 
linquished them. 

They  both  walked  home  in  silence. 

The  next  morning  Uno  went  to  the 
capital. 

Two  months  after  this  the  marriage  of 
the  Justice  Evert  of  Ochard  and  Ellen 
Kahn  was  celebrated. 

The  bride's  dowry  was  one  hundred 


36 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


thousand  riks  thalcrs,  besides  fifty  thou- 
sand which,  through  a  special  arrange- 
ment, constituted  a  sort  of  capital  between 
the  parties.  Of  the  interest  of  the  last- 
named  amount,  Ellen  alone  possessed  the 
full  disposal. 

The  bride  was  lovely  and  captivating, 
and  the  Justice  the  happiest  of  all  happy 
mortals. 


HUSBAND  AND   WIFE. 

FOUR   YEARS   LATER. 

THE  month  of  January,  with  its  north- 
ern lights,  its  frost,  its  snow-covered 
streets,  its  clear,  cold  sun,  and  its  amuse- 
ments, approached  its  close,  as  we  bring 
you,  dear  reader,  one  beautiful  morning, 
into  the  Justice  of  Ochard's  elegant  and 
sumptuous  abode.  The  young  couple 
had  enjoyed  matrimonial  felicity  a  little 
over  four  years. 

They  had  made  a  journey  to  the  Con- 
tinent the  first  year,  and  on  their  return 
to  Stockholm  entered  society  with  all  the 
luxury  that  wealth  could  command. 

The  married  pair  were,  it  is  true,  the 
objects  of  many  invidious  remarks,  but 
of  yet  more  courting  and  flattery,  and 
counted  an  untold  number  of  friends. 

Ellen  was  considered  by  one  and  all 
a  gifted,  captivating,  and  lovely  woman, 
although  somewhat  too  vain,  for  with 
her  elegance  and  grace  she  cast  others 
into  the  shade.  She  lived  in  great  style, 
mingled  in  the  highest  circles,  attended 
all  festivities,  and  was  regarded  as  one 
who  was  devoted,  heart  and  soul,  to  the 
pleasures  of  society.  The  envious  tra- 
duced her,  the  good-hearted  kept  silent, 
and  flattery  kindled  its  incense  before 
the  young  and  wealthy  woman.  Be- 
sides, she  was  regarded  as  a  literary  per- 
son, for  she  had  published  a  little  col- 
lection of  poems  which  won  general 
approbation.  It  can  be  seen  from  this, 
that  Ellen  belonged  to  those  who  ought 
to  be  sharply  censured,  for  nothing  gives 


greater  offence  with  commonplace  people 
than  that  innate  superiority  which  can 
be  procured  neither  through  money  nor 
intrigue.  The  natural  consequence  is, 
that  one  who  possesses  this  becomes  the 
object  of  calumny  and  persecutions. 

We  find  the  married  pair  in  a  little 
cabinet.  Ellen  sits  curled  up  in  an  easy- 
chair,  listening  to  her  husband  with  an 
abstracted  air.  Evert  had  taken  his 
place  at  a  small  table.  Before  him  lay  a 
list,  upon  which  he  made  notes  with  a 
pencil. 

"This  evening  there  is  the  reception 
at  President  S***,  and  Don  Juan  be- 
sides at  the  Royal  Opera.  You  cannot, 
my  dear,  miss  being  at  both  places.  So 
make  a  short  visit  to  the  Opera  and  drive 
round  to  the  President's  at  half  past  ten." 

"But  I  assure  you,  Evert,  that  this 
chase  from  pleasure  to  pleasure  wearies 
me,"  replied  Ellen. 

"  My  dear  Ellen,  think  of  what  we  owe 
to  our  position  in  society.  I  am  rich, 
rich  through  you  ;  and  if  we  lived  retired, 
would  it  not  look  in  the  eyes  of  the  world 
as  if  I  were  a  miser,  who  only  thought  of 
investing  his  money.  And  besides,  what 
enjoyment  could  one  then  have  of  exist- 
ence 1  None.  Now,  on  the  contrary,  for- 
tune gives  me  the  opportunity  of  leading 
a  life  agreeable  in  every  respect.  My 
horses  excite  admiration  whenever  we 
drive  out ;  my  establishment  is  consid- 
ered the  most  elegant,  an  actual  model, 
after  which  all  desire  to  pattern  their 
dwellings ;  for  a  great  part  of  the  furni- 
ture is  imported.  I  am  the  one  who 
gives  the  ton  in  our  society.  People 
know  that  what  I  have  is  modern  and 
tasteful,  as  well  as  manufactured  in  Paris. 
You  again  are  the  object  of  all  the  ladies' 
envy  and  all  the  gentlemen's  admiration. 
When  you  appear  in  a  company,  one 
examines  every  detail  of  your  attire ; 
have  you  a  new,  foreign  style  in  your 
dress,  your  mantle,  or  an  unusual  ma- 
terial, the  other  ladies  will  take  pattern 
from  it  directly.  You  are  young,  you 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


37 


are  rich,  you  are  a  genius,  and  besides 
my  wife  ;  you  ought  consequently  to  live 
iu  the  world  which  pays  homage  to  you, 
and  think  that  this  homage  is  a  real 
pleasure  to  me ;  for  the  applause  which 
we  reap  from  our  fellow-beings  contributes 
very  essentially  to  the  true  value  of  life. 
Besides,  you  ought  to  consider  what  a 
great  advantage  it  is  to  me  to  live  in  fine 
style  and  associate  in  the  higher  circles. 
I  win  favor,  and  through  this  it  will  be 
easy  for  me  to  get  promoted  before  others, 
who  neither  possess  my  merits  nor  the 
ability  to  gain  friends  and  protectors 
through  the  means  which  wealth  affords. 
President  S***,  for  example,  is  obliged 
to  borrow  money ;  he  turns  to  me.  At 
the  next  promotion  he  says  a  good  word 
for  me  to  the  government,  and  I  am  ad- 
vanced directly.  I  have  a  fine  house, 
and  people  strive  to  get  entrance  to  it. 
The  result  is  that  they  have  every  reason 
in  the  world  to  favor  my  success.  We 
have  entirely  left  the  subject,  and  I  am 
obliged  to  be  in  court  at  eleven  o'clock. 
You  will  thus  go  to  the  Opera  this  even- 
ing, where  I  will  come  for  you,  as  I  shall 

dine  with  Count  0 .     Apropos,  Ellen, 

you  really  made  me  feel  bad  at  the  con- 
cert Tuesday,  when  I  came  to  accompany 
you  home.  Goodness,  how  you  were 
dressed,  black  as  a  mm  ! " 

"  My  friend,  one  is  always  well  dressed 
in  black."' 

"  May  be ;  but  for  you,  whom  every- 
body knows  to  be  my  wife,  it  is  necessary 
to  dress  exquisitely.  When  you  appear 
at  the  Opera  or  at  a  concert,  people  say, 
'  Fru  Ochard,  the  poetess ! '  and  then 
they  begin  to  survey  your  toilet  from  the 
greatest  to  the  least.  My  pride  is  that 
you  shall  be  dressed  with  a  tasteful  lux- 
ury. What  do  you  intend  to  wear  this 
evening  ]" 

"  I  have  not  yet  thought  about  it." 

"  Ah  !  my  dear,  you  are  unwarrant- 
ably indifferent  to  everything  that  ought 
to  interest  you.  God  knows,  Ellen, 
what  you  are  thinking  of.  I  find  it  more 


and  more  necessary  to  meddle  in  your 
toilet,  else  it  would  be  an  utter  failure. 
I  suppose  you  will  wear  a  light  silk  to 
the  Opera  ? " 

"Yes,  I  shall  endeavor  to  be  dressed 
according  to  your  taste."  Ellen  smiled 
faintly. 

"At  President  S***'s  you  must  be 
dressed  in  black,  for  it  is  the  first  time 
that  you  are  invited  there.  Too  bad, 
that  you  persist  in  not  having  a  black 
velvet  dress,  silk  and  moire-antique  are 
so  common.  Now  I  am  obliged  to  leave 
you.  Have  you  thought  of  trying  to 
win  a  prize  in  the  Swedish  academy  I 
You  have  promised  me  to  do  so,  have 
you  not  ? " 

"  To  gratify  you  I  will  make  the  en- 
deavor." 

"  It  is  inexpressibly  annoying  that  you 
from  sheer  obstinacy  refuse  to  improvise 
in  company.  What  a  light  would  you 
not  become  in  society,  if  you  could  aban- 
don that  silly  resolution,  which  is  utterly 
destitute  of  common  sense."  Evert  rose 
from  his  chair  and  went  to  his  wife, 
saying  with  a  certain  tenderness  :  "Shall 
my  prayers  not  prevail  upon  you  to 
fulfil  my  desire  1 " 

Ellen  laid  her  hand  in  his. 

"  In  all  else,  Evert,  I  will  meet  your 
wishes ;  but  never  can  you  persuade  me 
to  appear  in  society  as  a  juggler  who 
amuses  the  company  with  her  tricks. 
No,  this  power  to  dream  while  awake  is 
a  failing,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  become 
prominent  through  it  as  some  incom- 
prehensible thing  which  people  at  once 
praise  and  censure.  At  your  request  I 
have  written  down  these  effusions  of  the 
moment  and  allowed  them  to  be  pub- 
lished ;  but  every  shadow  of  inspiration 
and  enthusiasm  would  disappear,  if  I  was 
doomed  to  improvise  before  these  people 
who  do  not  understand  me.  Be  content 
with  giving  some  of  my  poetical  noth- 
ings to  the  world,  and  ask  no  more 
of  me." 

Evert  looked  displeased,  swung  on  his 


38 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


heel,  and,  muttering  something  about 
caprice  and  obstinacy,  went  into  his  room. 
An  hour  afterward  he  came  out,  clad  in 
a  black  swallow-tail  coat,  ready  to  at- 
tend court. 

Our  Justice  bestowed  no  little  time 
upon  his  toilet.  The  part  of  the  day 
which  other  young  men  in  court  were 
obliged  to  devote  to  work  was  employed 
by  him  in  studying  the  cut  of  his  coats, 
cloaks,  cravats,  vests,  etc.,  etc.  He  was 
rich,  he  paid  others  to  work  for  him, 
while  he  gratified  his  desire  of  appearing 
as  a  handsome  and  elegant  young  man, 
which  no  one  could  dispute  that  he  was. 

"I  suppose  you  remember  that  Bar- 
oness Ernstein  expects  you  at  noon  1  I 
think  you  were  to  take  a  ride  to  Djur- 
garden  together  1  I  will  order  the  gray 
horses  to  be  harnessed  to  the  double 
sleigh.  Adieu,  my  dear.  Do  not  forget 
that  to-morrow  is  the  ball  at  his  Excel- 
lency D 's,  and  the  day  after  we 

have  a  reception  ourselves.  You  ought 
to  devote  a  little  consideration  to  your 
toilet  for  that  day  and  also  to  your 
music."  Evert  kissed  Ellen's  brow  and 
left  the  room. 

The  young  wife  remained  sitting  a  long 
time  as  if  wearied  out  and  incapable  of 
any  motion.  Her  expressionless  gaze 
was  fastened  on  the  ceiling.  There  lay 
in  it  something  in  the  highest  degree 
indifferent  and  fatigued,  which  gave  a 
lax  and  soulless  stamp  to  the  whole  face. 
She  looked  as  if  she  did  not  think  of 
anything,  but  gave  herself  up  to  a  com- 
plete rest.  From  this  waking  trance  she 
was  aroused  by  the  entrance  of  her  maid. 

"  The  Justice  bade  me  tell  you  that 
Baroness  Ernstein  expects  your  Grace 
at  twelve  o'clock.  It  is  now  half  past 
eleven.  What  dress  will,  you  wear  1 " 

"Ah,  Ingrid,  is  it  you?"  said  Ellen. 
And  a  smile  full  of  kindness  glided  over 
the  pale  features  as  she  offered  the  girl 
her  hand. 

Ingrid  was  an  orphan  who  had  grown 
up  in  the  neighborhood  of  Holmvik, 


and  was  some  years  older  than  Ellen. 
They  had  known  each  other  as  long 
back  as  they  could  remember,  and  In- 
grid had  more  than  once  been  allowed 
to  take  part  in  the  children's  plays  at 
Holmvik,  for  she  was  the  favorite  of 
them  all  and  especially  Ellen's.  When 
she  had  been  confirmed,  Countess  Ru- 
bens engaged  her  as  Ellen's  waiting-girl. 
When  Ellen  married,  Ingrid,  who  loved 
her  with  her  whole  heart,  accompanied 
her  to  the  new  home  as  lady's-maid. 

Ingrid  had  through  Emy's  care  re- 
ceived an  education  which  raised  her 
above  an  ordinary  servant  and  developed 
her  naturally  good  faculties.  She  was 
now  called  Mamsell  Ingrid,  and  had,  be- 
sides the  position  of  lady's-maid,  the 
supervision  over  all  the  servants. 

Ingrid  seized  the  extended  hand  and 
kissed  it. 

"  How  pale  my  beloved  mistress  is  to- 
day," said  she. 

"I  am  tired  of  these  continual  late 
hours,  Ingrid.  Ah !  if  I  could  live  far 
from  all  this  bustle,  this  so-called  pleas- 
ure, in  some  corner,  hidden  and  forgot- 
ten." Ellen  rose.  "Yes,  I  suppose  I 
must  dress  for  that  sleigh-ride."  She 
sighed.  "My  life  is  a  constant  toilet. 
My  days  are  spent  in  the  incessant 
occupation  of —  changing  attire  A  use- 
ful life,  heaven  knows  !  " 

"But  your  Grace  works  between 
times  ] " 

"II"  Ellen  smiled  bitterly.  "Work 
and  I  are  strangers  to  each  other.  I 
have  no  time  to  work.  There,  it  is  a 
quarter  to  twelve ;  I  have  again  barely 
time  to  get  dressed. 

Ingrid  was  the  only  being  in  whose 
presence  Ellen  allowed  any  reflections 
upon  her  life  to  eecape  her.  If  she  then 
sometimes  "thought  aloud,"  it  was  be- 
cause she  knew  that  Ingrid  was  as  mute 
as  the  walls. 

At  a  quarter  to  one  an  elegant  sleigh 
stopped  before  Baroness  Ernstein's  resi- 
dence. The  spirited  and  exceedingly 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


beautiful  horses,  the  stately  coachman, 
the  lady  who  sat  in  the  sleigh  in  her  ex- 
quisite winter  toilet,  all  drew  the  atten- 
tion of  the  passer-by.  People  stopped 
and  looked  after  the  handsome  equipage. 

In  the  evening  Ellen  showed  herself 
at  the  Royal  Opera  and  was  through  her 
luxury  the  object  of  a  thousand  remarks. 
Evert  came  for  his  wife  after  the  third 
act. 

Aa  hour  later  several  gentlemen  stood 
conversing  in  a  group  in  the  outer  saloon 
at  President  S***'s. 

"  So,  my  dear  Count,  you  are  going  to 
stay  in  Sweden  through  the  winter,"  said 
a  young  Baron  to  Count  Uno  Kerner, 
who  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  group. 

"  Yes,  such  is  my  intention,"  replied 
the  Count. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  seen  Count  Oscar 
Kerner  and  Arthur  Rubens  1 " 

"  Not  yet.  I  have  only  been  in  Stock- 
holm two  days." 

"  They  are  both  staying  in  the  capital 
on  account  of  the  Diet." 

Just  then  a  young  couple  entered  the 
saloon.  All  the  gentlemen  in  the  group 
saluted  them,  Uno  included.  It  was 
Justice  Ochard  and  his  wife.  When 
Ellen  saw  Uno,  a  delicate,  almost  imper- 
ceptible color  tinged  her  pale  cheeks. 
His  greeting  was  cold  and  measured.  He 
followed  with  his  eyes  the  lady  whose 
apparel  was  now,  as  always,  costly  and 
exquisite. 

"  Do  you  know  Fru  Ochard,  Count  1 " 
asked  the  Baron. 

"  I  have  seen  her  at  Rubens." 

"  Yes,  that  is  true  ;  she  was  brought 
up  with  them.  Fru  Ochard  is  a  lady 
who  is  very  much  in  the  mode ;  less 
through  her  beauty,  although  she  is  very 
fine  looking,  than  through  her  genius, 
her  taste,  and  the  style  in  which  she 
lives.  The  Ochards  are  always  to  be 
found  in  the  dizzy  round  of  pleasure,  and 
eclipse  all  others  by  their  magnificence. 
This  seems  to  have  been  the  chief  object 
of  her  ambition,  to  stand  before  all  other 


women  in  the  circle  in  which  she  moves. 
She  is  a  lovely  woman  in  every  respect, 
but  indisputably  very  vain."  The  gen- 
tlemen separated. 

"My  first  judgment  of  Ellen  was  thus 
correct,"  thought  Uno,  who  withdrew 
into  a  window  recess,  and  regarded  Ellen 
as  she  sat  surrounded  by  a  swarm  of 
young  men,  with  whom  she  gayly  con- 
versed. "  The  moment's  triumph,  —  that 
is  the  aim,  which  these  women  who  are 
reputed  geniuses  seek  to  attain.  What 
an  empty  life  is  this  foolish  chase  after 
distinctions  which  in  themselves  are 
worth  nothing !  How  can  a  good  and 
warm-hearted  person  make  it  the  object 
of  her  life  to  go  from  one  diversion  to  an- 
other, day  and  night,  coveting  nothing 
higher  than  to  dazzle  with  a  fine  exte- 
rior !  Impossible  !  Empty  is  the  brain 
which  is  not  able  to  comprehend  that  we 
ought  to  live  for  a  nobler  end,  and  empty 
the  heart  which  seeks  its  happiness  in 
such  a  worthless  endeavor."  Uno  stole 
unobserved  from  the  President's  full 
house,  and  went  home. 

While  his  valet  helped  the  Count  to 
exchange  his  black  coat  for  a  dressing- 
gown,  he  said,  — 

"  According  to  your  order,  Herr  Count, 
I  have  taken  books  from  the  bookstore. 

Herr  B gave  me   some  which  you 

had  not  asked  for,  but  which  he  told 
me  to  bring  home  for  you  to  look  at." 

"  Very  well.  Lay  the  package  on  the 
table  and  place'  my  reading-lamp  be- 
side it." 

When  the  valet  had  obeyed  the  direc- 
tion, he  left  the  room.  The  Coun* 
stretched  himself  out  on  a  lounge  and 
opened  the  package.  The  first  book  that 
fell  into  his  hands  was,  "Short  Poems 
by  Ellen  of  Ochard."  He  threw  the  book 
far  from  him  with  a  gesture  of  indigna- 
tion and  muttered,  "  Everything  from 
her  breathes  vanity  and  only  vanity." 
He  again  took  up  the  book  and  read  : 
"'Ellen  of  Ochard.'  The  whole  name 
given  so  that  no  one  should  doubt  that 


40 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


it  is  she.  As  a  girl  an  improvisatrice, 
as  a  wife  a  poetess,  a  woman  of  the  world 
and  —  a  coquette.  Bah  !  She  has  be- 
come what  I  predicted."  He  turned  the 
leaves  and  opened  to,  "The  Happiness 
of  Home."  At  the  sight  of  this  title  he 
burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 

"  '  The  happiness  of  home  ! '  That  is 
excellent !  Here  we  have  a  striking 
proof  of  my  assertion,  that  these  beings 
with  imagination  can  paint  what  they 
never  felt,  what  they  do  not  even  care 
for  in  reality.  They  choose  their  subject 
according  to  what  they  think  will  strike 
the  public,  but  the  heart  remains  cold, 
whatever  they  may  write  about.  They 
only  calculate  the  effect  which  they  are 
able  to  produce."  Again  the  book  was 
thrown  to  one  side,  and  the  Count  took 
another,  without  reading  a  single  word  in 
Ellen's  collection. 


Two  days  afterwards  there  was  a  large 
and  brilliant  ball  at  the  Ochards'.  Ellen 
received  her  guests  with  the  ease  which 
intercourse  with  the  great  world  bestows. 
Warm  and  cordial  was  the  smile  with 
which  she  welcomed  the  Rubens  and  Ker- 
ner  families.  Ebba  and  Alma  were  be- 
trothed. The  former  to  an  amiable  young 
man,  Baron  Alfred  Angerfeldt,  and  the 
latter  to  Lieutenant  Henrico ;  a  fancy 
which  had  grown  up  with  her,  and  which 
was  entirely  in  harmony  with  Count  Ker- 
ner's  wishes  and  plans  for  her  future. 

They  had  already  danced  the  first  two 
dances.  Ellen  stood  in  the  middle  of  a 
smaller  saloon,  conversing  with  Ebba,  who 
leaned  on  Baron  Alfred's  arm.  Suddenly 
Ebba  exclaimed,  "  Why  see  there !  "  and 
smiled  at  the  object  of  her  surprise. 
Ellen  turned.  Uno  stood  bowing  before 
the  ladies.  Their  first  meeting  had 
been  so  in  passing  that  Ellen  had 
merely  time  to  recognize  him.  He  now 
stood  before  her  with  that  cold  polite- 
•ness  in  his  whole  demeanor  and  that 


peculiar  indifference  in  his  glance  which 
had  so  wounded  her  in  the  beginning 
of  their  acquaintance.  While  she  wel- 
comed him  in  some  courteous  words, 
the  remembrance  of  their  last  meet- 
ing on  the  bank  of  the  stream,  and  his 
words,  "I  shall  always  remember  this 
moment,"  were  vividly  recalled  to  her 
soul.  Could  he  have  forgotten  this  part- 
ing1! There  was  nothing  in  his  look 
which  gave  her  reason  to  believe  the 
contrary.  Ellen  had  preserved  the  rec- 
ollection of  this  moment  in  her  heart, 
as  she  had  preserved  everything  which 
reminded  her  of  the  time  before  her  mar- 
riage, when  life  seemed  so  pleasant  to  her. 
Was  it  these  thoughts  which  with  light- 
ning's speed  flashed  through  her  soul, 
that  called  forth  an  almost  melancholy 
expression  in  her  face,  when  she  greeted 
Uno  1  Or  was  it  the  certainty  that  he, 
like  all  the  rest,  would  consider  her  a 
vain  and  foolish  creature  1  Possibly  both, 
we  do  not  know.  Only  a  few  unimpor- 
tant words  were  exchanged  between  them, 
and  then  Uno  went  to  look  up  Sappho. 
In  a  little  cabinet,  where  he  found  Emy 
and  Sappho,  he  sat  down. 

They  talked  awhile  about  indifferent 
matters.  Then  Uno  passed  over  to 
Ebba's  and  Alma's  betrothals,  their  hopes 
for  the  future.  Finally  Emy  said,  — 

"  But  tell  me  frankly,  Uno,  how  do 
you  find  Ellen  ?  Is  she  the  same  ]  Does 
she  look  happy  1 " 

"I  fancy  that  she  has  become  some- 
what paler,  but  she  looks  cheerful  and 
contented,  as  one  who  leads  a  life  that 
she  considers  pleasant  and  agreeable." 

"  Does  she  really  look  cheerful  ] "  Emy 
rather  whispered  this  question  to  herself 
than  addressed  it  to  Uno.  Thereupon 
she  rose  and  went  into  the  large  saloon. 

"  Do  you  not  think  that  I  am  right, 
Sappho,  in  what  I  have  said  about  Ellen's 
appearance  ] " 

"No,"  replied  Countess  Kerner.  "It 
seems  to  me,  on  the  contrary,  as  though 
she  was  consumed  by  some  soul  suffer- 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


41 


ing  which  she  will  never  clothe  in  words, 
and  as  if  the  life  she  leads  was  a  torment, 
a  constraint  to  her." 

"My  dear  Sappho,  that  comes  from 
the  fact  that  you  so  stubbornly  hold  fast 
to  your  endeavor  to  make  of  her  a  being 
like  others,  with  the  need  of  true  happi- 
ness and  an  inner  longing  for  something 
more  than  this  empty  flattery.  But  you 
are  wrong ;  this  richly  endowed  Ellen  is 
a  willing  slave  to  her  vanity.  To  satisfy 
the  thirst  for  applause  which  governs 
her,  through  the  display  of  her  remark- 
able soul  gifts,  and  to  attract  attention 
by  her  luxury  and  splendor,  —  these  are 
the  objects  for  which  she  lives.  She  has 
no  need  of  love's  quiet  joy,  and  cannot 
conceive  of  the  delight  of  an  unobserved 
and  domestic  life.  But  so  it  is,  all  per- 
sons seek  to  satisfy  thai  which  consti- 
tutes their  master-passion." 

"  Then  you  mean  to  assert  that  vanity 
is  Ellen's  master-passion  1 " 

"Yes." 

Just  then  a  silk  dress  rustled  against 
the  door  curtains.  Uno  looked  up.  It 
was  Ellen.  She  had  stopped  in  the  door 
and  looked  at  Uno  with  a  sad  and  earnest 
expression ;  but  she  only  remained  stand- 
ing a  few  seconds,  then  she  continued 
her  way  through  the  cabinet. 


The  rooms  were  empty,  the  candles 
burned  down,  and  the  last  carriage  had 
rolled  away.  The  servants  were  engaged 
in  closing  the  doors  and  extinguishing 
the  lights,  when  Evert  came  in  to  his 
wife,  who,  tired  out,  had  thrown  herself 
down  on  a  sofa  in  a  little  boudoir  adjoin- 
ing her  bedchamber. 

Our  Justice's  face  shone  with  satisfac- 
tion when  he  entered. 

11  It  seems  to  me,  my  dear,  that  our 
ball  was  a  brilliant  affair.  I  have  been 
overwhelmed  with  compliments.  Excel- 
lency G said  some  obliging  words 

to  me.  Counsellor  E showed  me 


genuine  good-will  and  much  politeness. 
President  S***  pressed  my  hand  and 
called  me  his  friend ;  in  short,  I  have 
reaped  praise  from  all  quarters.  Besides 
this,  Count  Dersner  said  something  quite 
flattering  with  regard  to  my  choice  of 
a  wife.  He  praised  your  genius,  and 
thought  you  a  truly  superior  woman.  I 
suppose  you  know  that  Count  Dersner  is 
married  to  Count  Uno  Kerner's  sister." 
The  Justice  took  Ellen's  hand  and  kissed 
it  warmly,  adding :  "  It  is  you,  my  be- 
loved Ellen,  who  have  helped  me  to  all 
these  triumphs,  through  your  distin- 
guished qualities."  He  released  his 
wife's  hand,  it  fell  down  again  in  her  lap, 
without  Evert's  perceiving  or  heeding 
her  indifferent  and  abstracted  demeanor. 
He  continued :  "  After  all  the  favor 
which  the  President  and  the  Counsellor 
showed  me,  it  is  no  longer  a  matter  of 
doubt  which  of  us  two,  Gran  or  I,  shall 

become  assessor  in  X 's  place.     This 

intercourse  with  the  higher  society,  for 
which  I  have  been  so  solicitous,  has  been 
of  great  advantage  to  me,  because  it  has 
procured  me  patrons.  If  one  wishes  to 
rise  in  the  world,  he  must  try  to  associate 
with  those  who  are  above  him.  The 
only  thing  that  I  should  desire  to  speak 
to  you  about,  my  dear  Ellen,  is  that  you 
do  not  attach  enough  importance  to  a 
person's  rank,  but  treat  all  alike."  Here 
followed  a  long  lecture  about  the  proper 
and  not  proper,  the  different  ways  in 
which  one  ought  to  treat  different  peo- 
ple, the  regard  that  ought  to  be  paid  to 
the  impression  one  makes  upon  them, 
and  the  importance  of  not  neglecting  any 
opportunity  of  gaining  those  persons 
whose  acquaintance  gives  repute,  etc. 
It  was  a  real  piece  of  eloquence  in  our 
Justice,  which  turned  on  his  desire  of 
making  an  appearance  and  of  winning 
approbation  and  success.  The  whole 
speech  could  be  called  a  dissertation 
upon  the  best  way  of  gratifying  one's 
vanity.  But  when  he  had  fully  and 
clearly  developed  the  subject,  Evert  re- 


42 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


minded  himself  that  he  perhaps  exposed 
his  main  weakness  too  much,  and  this 
was  something  which  he  was  altogether 
too  vain  to  desire  to  do.  As  soon  as  he 
perceived  that  he  had  allowed  himself  to 
be  carried  away  and  gone  too  far,  he  was 
always  prepared  to  amend  his  fault  by 
giving  it  a  color  that  would  place  him  in 
a  fine  and  noble  light.  So  even  now. 

"My  little  wife  must  not  think  that 
I  have  mentioned  these  rules  which 
ought  to  be  observed  in  social  life,  for 
anything  but  her  own  sake.  I,  as  a  man, 
do  not  care  in  the  least  for  what  people 
say  about  me.  But  you  see  I  am  so 
enamored,  so  smitten  with  you,  that  I 
desire  the  whole  world  to  kneel  before 
you  as  I  do.  It  is  your  prosperity  that 
I  would  further.  That  you  shall  be  the 
one  most  highly  thought  of  is  my  aim ; 
but  what  they  think  or  say  about  me  is 
entirely  indifferent.  I  know  my  own 
worth,  am  a  man,  and  do  not  need  the 
world's  praise." 

Evert  had  again  bent  down  and  kissed 
Ellen's  brow.  It  was  cold,  and  a  sigh 
heaved  her  breast.  Our  Justice,  like  all 
vain  persons,  was  extremely  impatient. 
He  required  of  his  wife  that  she  should 
adore  him,  that  she  should  admire  and 
approve  all  that  he  said  and  did.  Ellen's 
passive  submission,  her  silence,  her  luke- 
warmness,  irritated  and  wounded  him. 
Especially  when  he  forgot  the  thoughts 
of  satisfying  his  desire  for  approbation, 
which  usually  occupied  him  exclusively, 
and  devoted  some  caresses  to  her,  he  fotfnd 
it  in  the  highest  degree  ungrateful  of  her 
not  to  respond  to  these  expressions  of 
tenderness  from  the  man  for  whom  she 
ought  to  live  and  die.  He  accordingly 
rose  abruptly  when  Ellen  sighed,  and 
said  impetuously,  — 

"Really,  my  dear  Ellen,  you  are  a 
very  singular  woman.  I  try  in  every 
conceivable  way  to  make  your  life  agree- 
able. I  surround  you  with  everything 
that  you  can  desire,  introduce  you  into 
all  distinguished  circles,  regulate  my  life 


entirely  according  to  your  well-being,  and 
do  all  that  I  can  to  sweeten  my  wife's 
days;  but  you,  you  have  only  sighs, 
coldness,  and  indifference  in  response  to 
my  tender  efforts  to  create  your  happi- 
ness. /  love  and  adore  you,  and  you,  as 
thanks  for  it,  show  me  no  glimpse  of  true 
and  genuine  affection.  I  sacrifice  my- 
self entirely  for  you  ;  but  what  have  I  in 
return?  Sad  and  discontented  looks, 
never  a  glad  and  grateful  smile,  but  con- 
tinually a  cloudy  face  and  solitary  words ; 
and  yet,  Ellen,  I  had  counted  upon  some- 
thing different  from  you ;  yes,  I  hoped 
that  you  would  make  some  acknowledg- 
ment to  a  man  who  has  no  other  thought 
than  to  afford  you  happiness."  He 
walked  up  and  down  the  room,  veiy 
much  provoked  at  his  wife,  and  deeply 
moved  over  himself  and  his  sacrificed 
love. 

At  this  outburst  Ellen  rose  from  her 
half-reclining  position  and  offered  him 
her  hand  with  the  words,  — 

"  Forgive  me,  Evert,  if  I  am  not  as  I 
ought  to  be,  if  I  appear  cold,  and  am  not 
able  to  make  you  happy.  God  is  my  wit- 
ness that  I  have  desired  nothing  higher, 
during  the  four  years  that  we  have  been 
married,  than  to  be  able  to  comply  with 
your  wishes  and  so  regulate  my  life  as  to 
make  you  feel  contented." 

"From  what  you  say,  dear  Ellen,  it 
would  seem  as  if  you  sacrificed  yourself 
for  me,  and  not,  as  the  case  now  stands, 
that  I  am  the  one  who  makes  sacrifices. 
But  so  it  is.;  the  more  one  does  for  you 
women,  the  more  ungrateful  you  are. 
No,  a  husband  must  be  an  egotist  or  a 
despot  for  you  to  value  him.  If  one  is 
self-denying  and  good,  he  gets  caprice  as 
a  recompense."  And  with  this  the  Jus- 
tice went  into  his  bedroom. 

Ellen  bent  down  her  weary  head  and 
wept  quietly ;  soon  she  dried  her  tears 
and  thought,  — 

"  Perhaps  it  is  my  fault.  If  I  should 
tell  him  how  much  this  manner  of  life 
tonnented  me,  how  I  suffer  from  it,  he 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


43 


might  make  some  retrenchment,  and 
from  love  of  me  propose  a  quiet,  domes- 
tic life.  That  he  loves  me,  I  cannot 
doubt.  Yes,  he  loves  me  very  much, 
and  certainly  thinks  that  I  cannot  be 
happy  except  in  this  whirl.  He  com- 
plains of  the  lack  of  love  on  my  side. 
Ah  !  I  will  tell  him  that  this  lack  shall 
not  be  found  if  I  am  allowed  to  live  only 
with  him,  surrounded  by  his  tenderness, 
separated  from  all  this  bustle,  unobserved 
by  the  world,  indispensable  to  him."  She 
rose,  laid  her  hand  on  her  heart  and 
smiled  with  a  pained  expression,  as  she 
continued  in  thought :  "  Is  this  heart  ac- 
tually not  capable  of  a  warmer  feeling 
than  the  one  I  cherish  for  Evert  ?  0 
God  !  protect  me ;  may  I  never  live  to 
see  the  moment  when  I  again  doubt  the 
depths  of  the  love  which  bind  me  to  my 
husband.  Shall  I  have  struggled  in 
vain,  believed  that  I  have  come  victori- 
ous from  the  strife,  and  yet  not  have 
done  so  ?  That  would  be  terrible."  El- 
len sank  down  on  her  knees,  folded  her 
hands  over  her  breast  and  prayed, 
prayed  so  warmly  and  fervently,  with 
the  same  tender  trust  with  which  a  child 
lifts  up  its  prayer  to  God. 

It  was  a  strange  sight  to  see  this  lady, 
adorned  with  lace,  silk,  and  jewels,  alone 
in  the  elegant  boudoir  and  absorbed  in 
humble  prayer,  forgetful  of  all  the  vanity 
and  folly  which  surrounded  her,  with  her 
whole  soul  fastened  upon  the  Father  to 
whom  she  always  flew  in  the  moment  of 
trouble. 

When  she  again  rose,  her  features  were 
calm  and  serene ;  and  when  she  entered 
the  bedroom,  there  was  something  so 
mild  and  almost  glorified  in  her  appear- 
ance, that  it  was  easy  to  see  that  she  had 
found  in  prayer  both  consolation  and 
strength. 


The   following  morning  we   find   the 

married  pair  sitting  in  the  little  boudoir. 

"  Dear  Evert,  I  was  so  deeply  troubled 


yesterday  on  account  of  your  leaving 
me  in  displeasure,  and  because  I  thought 
I  could  conclude  from  your  words  that 
the  life  we  lead  is  not  fully  in  accordance 
with  your  taste,  but  that  you  think  I 
cannot  be  happy  unless  I  live  in  society, 
therefore  I  desire  a  right  understanding 
between  us,  and  that  you  may  clearly 
read  my  heart." 

"  Well,  I  have  no  objection ;  but  I 
wonder  what  I  shall  find  to  read  in  it ; 
probably  something  very  fanciful  and  ro- 
mantic, but  nothing  of  reality."  Evert 
spoke  in  a  snappish  tone. 

"  Evert,  not  that  tone."  She  laid  her 
hand  on  his  arm,  and  leaned  her  head  a 
little  to  one  side,  so  that  she  looked  him 
in  the  eyes.  "  What  I  have  to  say  only 
concerns  our  happiness,  and  I  wish  to 
prove  to  you  by  my  words  the  sincerity 
of  my  affection.  Evert,  you  are  mis- 
taken in  regard  to  my  taste,  if  you  think 
that  this  life  in  the  midst  of  the  world's 
pleasures  pleases  me.  No,  I  love  the 
retired  family  life,  full  of  love  and  peace. 
I  do  not  find  my  happiness  in  these  dissi- 
pations, this  senseless  pursuit  of  profit- 
less amusements.  On  the  contrary,  I 
suffer  from  it,  I  feel  weary,  distressed, 
and  unhappy,  for  it  does  not  seem  to  me 
that  I  can  answer  before  God  and  hu- 
manity for  the  way  in  which  my  days 
are  spent,  without  benefit  to  myself  or 
any  other  being.  Ah  !  Evert,  how  dif- 
ferent our  life  would  seem  if  we  left 
society,  drew  back  within  the  narrow 
but  far'  pleasanter  sphere  of  quiet  family 
life,  and  employed  all  these  sums  which 
are  now  wasted  upon  folly  for  the  benefit 
of  those  in  need ;  if  we  tried  to  do  good 
with  our  wealth,  instead  of  spending  our 
time  in  this  unprofitable  way."  She 
paused,  for  she  had  sought  in  vain  for  any 
approval  in  her  husband's  face  ;  on  the 
contrary,  this  face  assumed  an  expression 
of  more  and  more  resentment.  When 
she  ceased,  he  stood  up  and  began  to 
pace  the  floor,  while  he  responded  to  her 
proposition  in  the  following  manner ;  — 


44 


THE   WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


"Is  it  not  as  I  said,  that  you  would 
solace  me  with  a  multitude  of  absurd 
fancies.  My  dear  Ellen,  your  imagina- 
tion is  just  the  thing  when  you  write 
your  poems,  but  do  not  let  it  lead  your 
reason,  for  then  you  come  out  with  sheer 
nonsense.  Ellen  !  what  name  will  you 
give  this  whole  tirade  about  domestic 
happiness,  a  quiet  life,  and  all  that  1 
You  are  just  the  one  for  such  a  manner 
of  life  !  "  He  laughed  scornfully.  "  No, 
my  dear,  in  a  month's  time  you  would 
fill  my  ears  with  continual  complaints 
about  the  dull  time  you  had,  and  we  left 
alone  with  our  domestic  felicity  should 
be  ready  to  die  of  ennui.  I  know  you 
better  than  you  know  yourself,  and  con- 
sequently can  tell  best  what  kind  of  an 
existence  is  most  in  accordance  with 
your  disposition  and  inclinations.  Be- 
sides, your  common  sense  ought  to  tell 
you  that  a  man  with  my  expectations 
cannot  very  easily  place  himself  in  some 
obscure  corner  of  the  world,  to  play 
turtle-dove  with  his  wife,  but  is  obliged 
to  be  in  connection  with  persons  of  the 
same  standing  as  himself.  And  again,  I 
do  not  wish  to  pass  for  a  miser,  who  like 
a  dragon  keeps  guard  over  his  treasure  ; 
and  your  delicacy  ought  to  have  with- 
held you  from  any  remarks  about  the 
way  in  which  I  manage  money,  or  from 
insinuating  that  I  had  squandered  it." 
With  this  he  went  his  way,  to  avoid  all 
further  conversation  upon  the  subject. 

Ellen,  with  her. superior  understand- 
ing, realized  full  well  that  she  could  alter 
nothing  in  their  position.  She  saw  clear- 
ly that  Evert,  under  the  pretext  that  he 
lived  only  for  his  wife  and  ordered  his  life 
in  such  a  way  as  to  make  her  feel  happy 
and  contented,  in  reality  did  nothing  but 
follow  his  own  taste.  She  felt  something 
like  indignation  at  the  thought  of  her 
husband's  ignoble  behavior.  She  leaned 
back  against  the  sofa  and  reflected  with 
discouragement  that  she  had  no  other 
choice  than  to  continue  to  be  dragged 
from  one  divertisment  to  another. 


"  I  have  taken  the  solemn  vow  before 
God  to  contribute  to  my  husband's  hap- 
piness with  all  my  power.  Well,  then, 
this  happiness  he  can  only  find  by  shin- 
ing in  the  little  and  trivial ;  what 
matters  it  if  I  die  from  the  lack  of  tran- 
quillity and  domestic  happiness,  if  he  is 
only  contented1?  It  is  not  worth  while 
for  me  to  have  so  much  regard  for  my- 
self. His  vanity  is  more  to  him  than 
his  love  for  me.  I  shall  finally  freeze  to 
death  in  this  cold  splendor ;  but  what 
then?  I  have  no  children,  not  a  being 
to  whom  I  am  indispensable,  least  of  all 
to  my  husband.  What  then  is  life  really 
worth  ?  Nothing." 

She  went  to  one  of  the  windows  and 
looked  up  at  the  clear  sky.  What  was 
she  thinking  of?  Of  her  departed  par- 
ents. She  stood  so  a  long  time,  absorbed 
in  sorrowful  reflections,  when  at  last  her 
eyes  were  directed  to  the  street,  and  she 
saw  a  neatly  dressed  woman  carrying  a 
child  in  her  arms. 

"  What  would  I  not  give,"  she  thought, 
"  if  I  was  as  rich  as  that  poor  woman 
and  possessed  a  being  to  whom  I  was  all. 
Ah,  how  different  would  life  seem  to  me, 
if  I  had  a  chjld  to  live  for,  to  love  and 
take  care  of.  I  should  then  not  stand  so 
alone  and  forsaken  as  now.  I  should 
have  an  aim  for  my  existence.  But 
thou,  0  God,  hast  not  considered  me 
worthy  of  such  a  happiness." 

Ingrid  entered. 

"  Countess  Rubens  wishes  to  see  you  ; 
but  she  is  waiting  in  the  saloon,  for  I 
told  her  that  the  Justice  was  here." 

Ellen  hastened  out  to  Emy,  who  with 
true  motherly  tenderness  clasped  her  in 
her  arms.  Then  she  took  Ellen's  head 
in  her  hands,  lifted  it  up  and  looked 
searchingly  into  her  eyes. 

"  My  beloved  child,  I  have  come  here 
especially  to  talk  to  you  confidentially, 
and  to  ask  you  immediately,  without  any 
circumlocution,  are  you  really  happy  ? '' 

There  was  so  much  tenderness,  such 
true  motherly  anxiety,  in  Emy's  voice 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


45 


and  glance,  that  Ellen  could  have  melted 
into  tears  and  on  her  breast  poured  out 
all  that  distressed  her ;  but  the  practice 
of  governing  her  feelings,  which  she  had 
had  from  childhood,  now  also  prevailed. 
She  did  not  wish  with  her  sorrows  to 
trouble  the  one  who  had  taken  care  of 
her  with  so  much  love.  She  did  not 
wish  Emy  to  think  of  her  husband  with 
displeasure ;  and  she  considered  it  her 
duty  to  preserve  faithfully  everythingthat 
concerned  him  within  her  own  breast. 
She  therefore  kept  her  pangs  to  herself, 
and  answered  in  her  usual  gentle  way,  — 

"  If  I  do  not  always  feel  happy,  it  is 
because  of  my  dreamy  and  imaginative 
disposition,  not  of  any  other  circum- 
stance. Evert  loves  me,  is  always  good 
and  kind  to  me,  and  tries  to  the  best 
of  his  ability  to  dissipate  the  shadows 
which  my  natural  inclination  to  melan- 
choly sometimes  calls  forth." 

"Are  you  now  as  frank  with  me  as 
you  would  have  been  with  your  mother, 
if  she  lived  ]  Ellen,  at  this  moment  it 
is  her  spirit  that  speaks  to  you  through 
me.  Answer  me  as  if  you  stood  before 
her." 

"I  will  do  so."  Ellen  took  Emy's 
hand,  laid  it  on  her  heart,  and  said  with 
deep  earnestness :  "  I  remember  a  wo- 
man whom  I  regarded  as  the  ideal  of 
a  wife.  She  answered  me  once,  when  I 
asked  her  what  cloud  it  was  that  shad- 
owed her  brow  when  she  one  day  came 
out  from  her  husband,  'Child,  do  not 
ask  me.  That  which  is  between  man 
and  wife,  no  third  person,  even  if  it  is 
a  mother,  should  ever  seek  to  find  out. 
The  differences  which  arise  ought  to 
remain  between  them  and  God.  A  third 
is  there  one  too  many,  because  the  third 
can  never  be  fully  impartial.'  Can  you 
tell  me,  Aunt,  who  this  wise  and  noble- 
minded  wife  was  1  It  was  Emy  Rubens ; 
and  every  word  of  hers  have  I  pre- 
served in  the  depth  of  my  heart." 

The  Countess  kissed  Ellen  in  silence. 
Ingrid  came  in  at  the  same  moment 


and  announced  that  Herr  R and 

Herr  N had  come  to  practise  a  trio 

that  was  to  be  played  in  the  evening  at 
Captain  Ochard's,  Evert's  cousin. 

"  I  will  wait  here  a  moment,  and  then 
come  out  in  the  saloon  to  hear  the  trio," 
said  the  Countess.  "  You  go,  dear  Ellen, 
to  the  gentlemen  who  are  waiting  for 
you,"  added  she,  smiling. 

Ellen  left  the  room,  and  the  Countess 
made  a  sign  to  Ingrid  to  come  nearer. 

"Ingrid,  your  mistress  does  not  look 
happy.  What  do  you  consider  the  rea- 
son to  be  ? " 

"The  unquiet  life  that  she  leads,  Count- 
ess," replied  Ingrid,  fearlessly.  "  Her 
Grace  has  from  childhood  preferred  to 
live  still  and  quiet  within  the  family,  and 
now  the  Justice  drags  her  out  among 
people,  from  pleasure  to  pleasure,  and  in 
the  mean  time  visits,  rehearsals,  and  the 
care  of  the  toilet.  She  never  has  an 
undisturbed  moment ;  is  never  allowed 
to  abandon  herself  to  solitude,  calm,  and 
quiet ;  never  any  rest.  The  Justice  has 
no  time  left  to  sit  familiarly  alone  with 
his  wife.  Without  consulting  her  own 
pleasure,  weary,  indifferent,  and  perfectly 
submissive  to  his  will,  her  Grace  lets  it 
all  pass,  although  it  destroys  her  happi- 
ness. But  it  is  not  enough  with  this," 
added  Ingrid,  weeping ;  "  people  con- 
sider her  vain  and  a  coquette;  they  in 
general  pity  the  Justice,  and  regard  him 
as  the  one  who  is  led  completely  by  her. 
Ah  !  Countess,  I  have  often  thought  of 
telling  you  all  this,  but  always  waited 
for  you  to  ask  me." 

"  Thank  you,  Ingrid,"  said  the  Count- 
ess, giving  the  true-hearted  girl  her  hand. 
"  I  need  not  ask  you  to  be  tender  and 
affectionate  to  Ellen,  for  I  know  that  you 
are  so  with  heart  and  soul." 

"  Who  would  not  love  her  ? "  replied 
Ingrid,  and  kissed  the  Countess's  hand. 
"  But  it  makes  me  so  sad  to  see  her 
growing  pale  and  pining  away,  without 
my  being  able  to  do  anything  for  her 
comfort  and  happiness." 


46 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


"Is  the  Justice  at  home,  do  you  know  ? " 

"  I  should  think  so,  as  his  droschka 
has  not  yet  come." 

"  Ask  him  if  I  can  see  him  for  a  few 
moments." 

Ingrid  went  out,  and  in  a  moment  or 
two  Evert  entered  the  cabinet  with  a 
hurried  step,  and  greeted  the  Countess 
with  all  the  grace  and  politeness  which  he 
as  a  man  of  the  world  could  command. 

"You  have  desired  to  speak  to  me. 
Can  I  be  of  any  service  to  you  ] " 

"  Be  seated,  Evert ;  what  I  have  to  say 
concerns  Ellen  wholly." 

"  Evert  took  a  chair  with  a  look  of 
displeasure  that  he  was  not  able  to  con- 
ceal behind  the  obliging  smile." 

"Ellen  does  not  look  well.  When  I 
came  to  the  capital  I  found  her  appear- 
ance changed,  and  during  the  months 
that  have  since  elapsed  she  has  become 
still  paler.  This,  my  dear  Evert,  has 
induced  me  to  speak  to  you,  so  that  you, 
who  love  her  so  sincerely,  may  persuade 
her  to  limit  her  pleasures  a  little.  These 
continual  late  hours  and  excitements 
have  had  an  injurious  effect  upon  her, 
and  must  be  prevented,  if  your  wife's 
health  is  dear  to  you." 

"What  you  are  pleased  to  say  truly 
astonishes  me,  for  I  think  I  can  assure 
you  that  Ellen  has  never  been  so  happy 
and  so  completely  in  her  right  element 
as  since  she  married  and  gained  the 
opportunity  of  extending  her  social 
sphere.  Without  wishing  to  doubt  the 
correctness  of  your  judgment,  I  venture 
to  assert,  that  for  Ellen,  with  her  vis- 
ionary character,  it  is  necessary  to  live 
among  people,  to  be  in  the  midst  of  the 
world's  diversions,  for  she  would  other- 
wise, if  left  to  herself,  sink  into  a  melan- 
choly, dreamy  state,  that  would  not  only 
undermine  her  health,  but  utterly  destroy 
our  domestic  happiness." 

"  Domestic  happiness  ?  Dear  Evert,  do 
you  think  that  any  such  thing  can  come 
in  question  between  a  couple  who  scarce- 
ly spend  two  hours  of  the  day  in  each 


other's  society,  when  the  wife  flies  from 
one  pleasure  and  pastime  to  another,  and 
the  husband  -in  his  direction  is  first 
in  the  world  of  folly  and  the  leader  of 
the  ton  1 " 

"Permit  me  to  drop  this  subject," 
said  the  Justice,  always  polite,  but  with 
an  air  of  manly  decision  which  he  so 
well  knew  how  to  assume  when  he  saw 
fit.  "  Believe  me,  one  person  can  never 
rightly  judge  another.  That  which  in 
your  eyes  can  appear  as  a  folly,  would, 
if  you  could  place  yourself  in  my  posi- 
tion, obtain  quite  another  aspect.  Be 
convinced  that  Ellen's  husband  has  suf- 
ficient affection  for  his  wife  not  to  act 
heedlessly."  He  sighed  and  assumed  a 
melancholy  expression  as  he  continued : 
"  God  beSV  knows,  that  if  I  could  live 
a  retired  life  without  the  danger  of 
Ellen's  often  morbid  fancies  casting  a 
gloom  upon  our  home,  I  would  do  it 
willingly,  but  —  experience  has  shown 
me  that  I  cannot."  He  drew  a  deep 
sigh. 

Emy  rose.  A  higher  color  than  usual 
burned  on  her  cheeks,  and  with  a  tone 
not  entirely  free  from  irony,  she  said,  — 

"  It  would  seem  from  this,  my  dear 
Evert,  that  you  sacrificed  yourself  com- 
pletely for  your  wife's  welfare,  and  solely 
for  the  promotion  of  this  associated  with 
all  these  noble  families  who  in  wealth 
and  position  stand  so  high  above  you." 

"  Ellen  has  always  been  accustomed  to 
such  society  while  living  with  you,  and 
so  I  consider  it  my  duty  to  do  every- 
thing that  will  enable  her  to  follow  her 
habit  and  continue  to  live  in  the  same 
circles,"  replied  Evert,  who  did  not  ob- 
serve the  Countess's  ironical  tone. 

"And  probably  you  also  consider  it 
your  duty  to  ruin  yourself  in  this  irra- 
tional competition  with  the  richest  fami- 
lies in  the  land.  My  good  Evert,  you 
drive  your  duties  so  far  in  this  case, 
that  one  can  only  think  that  —  you  en- 
tirely forget  them.  Farewell !  " 

The  Countess  elevated  her  head  proudly, 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


47 


and  left  him  deeply  wounded  and  pro- 
voked ;  but  he  had  no  idea  of  showing  his 
resentment  before  Countess  Kubens,  for 
nothing  in  the  world  would  tempt  'him 
to  hurt  himself  in  the  estimation  of  the 
rich  and  noble  family.  But  he  felt 
really  angry  with  Ellen.  It  was  her 
fault  that  the  Countess  did  not  consider 
his  wife  the  happiest  of  women.  It  was 
Ellen's  duty  to  represent  him  as  the 
model  of  a  married  man,  and  to  tell  her 
foster-mother  that  she  loved  to  live  as 
they  now  did,  for  she  ought  always  to 
be  thankful  for  the  enjoyable  life  which 
he  afforded  her.  Should  he,  who  during 
his  whole  youth  had  dreamed  of  the 
happiness  of  gaining  an  opportunity  by 
a  rich  marriage  of  gratifying  his  taste, 
his  love  of  display,  his  desire  for  appro- 
bation, his  ambition,  now  because  of  a 
wife's  fantastic  visions  of  an  idyllic  and 
monotonous  happiness  doom  himself  to 
renounce  all  the  joy  that  wealth  could 
yield  his  vanity]  That  would  be  to 
resign  all  the  success,  triumph,  and  en- 
joyment of  life  !  No,  he  would  drain 
the  intoxicating  cup  which  was  pre- 
sented to  his  desire  of  approbation,  cost 
what  it  would.  And  as  to  Ellen,  he 
would  once  for  all  make  it  clear  to  her 
what,  according  to  his  opinion,  was  her 
duty. 

With  this  wise  resolution  he  was  about 
to  proceed  to  court,  when  Ingrid  opened 
the  doors  of  the  saloon  for  an  elegant 
lady. 

"  Her  Grace  is  engaged  in  rehearsing 
for  the  evening,  but  if  the  Baroness  will 
step  in  and  wait,  she  will  soon  be  at 
leisure." 

Evert  hastened  to  meet  Baroness  Ern- 
stein,  a  lady  who  was  much  courted  in 
social  life,  and  regarded  as  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  women  in  the  capital. 

Before  we  give  an  account  of  the  fol- 
lowing interview,  we  must  mention  that 
the  Baroness  was  of  a  noble,  but  poor 
family.  In  her  first  youth  Evert  and 
she  had  been  attached  to  each  other 


with  a  lively  fancy,  but  he  was  alto- 
gether too  worldly  to  care  for  love  in  a 
cottage.  He  saw  that  this  love  would 
only  be  a  hindrance  to  him,  and  the 
result  was  that  he  broke  off  the  tender 
connection,  and  the  Baroness  in  pique 
married  the  richest,  shallowest,  and  ug- 
liest of  barons.  Many  years  had  since 
elapsed,  and  the  Baroness  and  Evert  had 
scarcely  met,  until  within  the  last  two 
years,  when  Baroness  Augusta  Ernstein 
had  approached  Ellen,  with  much  good- 
will and  an  accommodating  politeness. 

Evert,  in  the  years  that  had  passed 
since  he  was  enamored  with  the  Count- 
ess, had  undergone  an  essential  change. 
The  liveliness  of  feeling  which  belonged 
to  his  first  youth  had  been  entirely 
smothered  by  his  all-conquering  vanity. 
He  had  become  a  perfect  man  of  the 
world,  and  had  also  acquired  the  world- 
ling's aridity  of  feeling.  He  was  not 
capable  of  a  pure,  warm,  and  unselfish 
affection.  To  live  to  appear  a  distin- 
guished person  was  his  aim,  but  he  did 
nothing  to  become  such  in  reality.  This 
is  the  endeavor  of  the  vain.  All  they 
do  goes  to  present  to  the  world  the 
image  of  the  good,  the  gifted,  the  mag- 
nificent, brilliant,  and  artistic,  while  in 
themselves  they  are  nothing  of  what 
they  would  seem  to  be.  There  is  no 
character  more  unreliable,  more  faithless 
and  changeable,  than  that  which  is  ruled 
by  the  desire  of  winning  the  approval 
of  all.  Flatter  such  a  person's  vanity, 
and  you  are  an  ideal  j  wound  it,  and  you 
become  a  monster.  Promote  its  satis- 
faction, and  he  kneels  before  you ; 
stand  in  its  way,  and  he  rends  you,  sul- 
lies your  honor,  and  commits  any  base 
action,  if  he  can  only  get  you  out  of 
the  way. 

All  tender  feelings  for  the  Baroness 
were  thus  extinguished  in  Evert's  breast, 
and  to  him  she  was  only  a  woman,  rich, 
noble,  courted,  and  admired.  These  quali- 
ties made  her  a  worthy  object  of  his 
attention.  The  favor  which  she  be- 


48 


THE  WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


stowed  on  him  was  always  flattering, 
because  it  showed  that  he  was  a  man 
better  endowed  than  others ;  for  hitherto 
the  Baroness  had  distinguished  none. 

It  was  the  first  time  since  he  bade 
Baroness  Augusta  farewell  as  a  lover, 
that  they  found  themselves  alone  to- 
gether. When  he  came  towards  her  she 
blushed,  perhaps  because  she  yet,  in  the 
depths  of  her  heart,  retained  the  remem- 
brance of  the  love  which  they  had  cher- 
ished for  each  other. 

"  I  desired  to  see  Ellen,"  said  she  with 
a  forced  smile,  "  but  did  not  expect  to 
meet  her  husband." 

"  Is  this  meeting  then  so  painful  to 
you,  Baroness  ? "  said  Evert  in  a  senti- 
mental tone  ;  for  like  most  vain  persons 
he  was  a  good  actor.  He  carried  her  hand 
with  animation  to  his  lips. 

"By  no  means  ;  but  an  unlooked-for 
tete-brtete  with  a  person  whom  one  does 
not  expect  to  meet  always  surprises." 
She  was  now  able  to  command  herself. 
She  had  again  become  a  woman  of  the 
world.  "  The  reason  of  my  call  to-day  is 
that  I  desired  to  consult  Ellen  in  refer- 
ence to  a  fancy-dress  ball  which  I  intend 
to  give.  She  has  such  exquisite  taste, 
that  I  do  not  know  of  any  one  who  can 
compare  with  her  in  this  respect." 

"A  fancy-dress  ball!  That  will  be 
something  exceedingly  piquant.  Shall  I 
not  be  considered  worthy  to  be  with  you 
in  the  consultation  1  I  remember  a  time 
when  you  thought  I  possessed  good  taste 
also,  and  often  consulted  it."  Evert 
looked  at  Augusta  with  a  melancholy 
expression,  and  a  highly  effective  sup- 
pressed sigh  followed. 

"  With  regard  to  the  gentlemen's  cos- 
tumes it  would  be  of  great  advantage  to 
learn  your  opinion  ;  but,  in  all  that  con- 
cerns the  ladies,  I  consider  Ellen  to  be 
fully  competent." 

"I  remember  a  young  lady  who  some 
years  ago  always  appealed  to  my  judg- 
ment in  the  choice  of  colors  for  her  at- 
tire ;  but  it  seems  as  if  this  lady  had  now 


forgotten  the  confidence  she  then  had 
in  me."  Evert  again  seized  the  Baron- 
ess's hand,  adding,  "  Shall  I  not  dare  to 
hope  that  I  may  be  a  friend  of  the  Au- 
gusta who  once  — 

"  Was  a  thoughtless  girl.  Herr  Jus- 
tice, I  have  done  what  is  better ;  I  have 
chosen  your  wife  for  a  friend.  Besides, 
sir,  it  is  wisest  for  us  both  to  occupy 
ourselves  as  little  as  possible  with  what 
has  been,  and  more  with  what  is,  instead. 
And  the  thing  nearest  at  hand  is,  my 
fancy-dress  ball.  As  I  have  really  a  very 
high  opinion  of  your  taste,  you  would 
oblige  me  if  I  could  count  upon  you  in 
the  council  I  intend  to  hold  with  some 
friends  to-morrow  evening,  and  to  which 
I  desired  the  pleasure  of  Ellen's  com- 
pany. You  are  more  than  happy, 
Ochard,  in  having  such  a  richly  gifted 
wife." 

"  But  I  might  have  been  happier  still 
if  —  " 

"  If  you  had  had  a  princely  rank  and 
fortune.  True  enough.  We  mortals  are 
never  contented.  Do  we  meet  this  even- 
ing at  Captain  Ochard's  1  And  may  I 
expect  you  and  Ellen  to-morrow  even- 
ing ] "  The  Baroness  rose. 

"You  can  always  count  upon  me," 
said  Evert  with  his  hand  on  his  heart. 
"  We  will  be  at  my  cousin's  this  evening." 

"Adieu!  Remember  me  to  Ellen." 
The  Baroness  bowed  her  beautiful  head, 
and  Evert  followed  her  to  the  door. 


The  programme  was  arranged  for  the 
fancy-dress  ball,  the  invitations  issued,  and 
all  those  who  were  to  appear  in  costume, 
that  is  to  say  the  dancing  portion  of  the 
guests,  had  been  extremely  busy.  Our 
Justice  most  of  all,  for  he  desired  a  really 
exquisite  costume  for  Ellen  and  himself. 
All  his  thoughts  had  been  taken  up  by 
this  weighty  subject.  There  had  been  as 
much  plotting  and  intriguing  as  if  it  had 
been  a  matter  of  the  highest  importance 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


49 


to   the  state.     Each   one   had  done  his 
best  to  eclipse  the  other. 

The  great  day  dawned  at  last  which 
was  to  witness  the  result  of  all  this  rival- 
ry and  intrigue.  Among  the  first  guests 
in  costume  who  presented  themselves  at 
the  ball  were  two  couples  dressed  as 
Italian  peasants.  These  were  Ebba  Ru- 
bens and  Alma  Kerner,  with  their  lovers. 
The  saloon  set  apart  for  those  in  costume 
was  gradually  filled,  from  whence  they 
were  to  enter  the  ball-room  two  by  two, 
while  the  band  played  a  march. 

Their  number  was  nearly  complete, 
they  were  only  waiting  for  the  Ochards. 
At  last  they  arrived.  Evert  was  dressed 
as  a  knight  of  the  time  of  Louis  XIV. ; 
the  costume  of  purple  velvet  embroidered 
with  gold,  white  satin  small-clothes,  and 
silk  hose  ;  Ellen  as  a  lady  of  the  same 
period,  in  white  satin  and  red  brocade. 
Their  costumes  were. so  magnificent  with 
the  rich  garniture  of  precious  stones  and 
the  expense  that  had  been  bestowed  upon 
them,  that  they  nearly  cast  all  others 
into  the  shade.  The  march  was  led  by 
Count  Uno  and  Baroness  Ernstein.  He 
•was  a  knight,  she  a  lady  of  the  time  of 
the  Crusades. 

Never  had  Ellen  looked  so  well,  so  al- 
most beautiful,  as  in  the  dress  she  now 
wore.  Probably  Uno  thought  so  too,  for 
his  eyes  rested  on  her  the  whole  evening, 
and  that  with  so  earnest  a  gaze,  that  Ellen, 
like  one  magnetized,  was  drawn  irresisti- 
bly in  the  direction  where  he  sat.  Even 
when  she  did  not  see  him,  she  felt  the 
whole  weight  of  that  penetrating  look. 
The  festivity  was  at  its  height  and  the 
ball  far  advanced  before  Uno  approached 
Ellen  ;  at  last,  during  an  interval  between 
the  dances,  he  went  to  her. 

"  Beautiful  lady,  have  you  any  dance 
disengaged  for  a  wandering  knight  1 " 

Before  she  had  time  to  answer,  Evert, 
who  stood  behind  her  chair,  replied,  — 

"  To  a  knight  of  the  cross  I  resign  my 
right  to  the  next  waltz." 

Just   then  the  waltz  struck  up,  and 


Uno  said  in  a  voice  that  trembled  slight- 

to- 

"  May  I  avail  myself  of  this  resigna- 
tion 1 " 

Ellen  gave  him  her  hand  with  a  grace- 
ful inclination  of  the  head. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Ellen  danced 
with  Uno.  Not  a  word  was  exchanged 
between  them.  Once  only  had  Ellen 
raised  her  eyes  and  met  his,  but  lowered 
them  as  hastily,  almost  dazzled  by  his 
expression.  When  he  took  her  back  to 
her  seat,  at  the  end  of  the  waltz,  he 
asked  in  a  low  voice,  — 

"Ellen,  have  you  no  other  dance 
free?" 

"  No,  not  one." 

He  took  his  place  beside  her. 

"Who,  in  your  opinion,  is  the  most 
beautiful  woman  here  ?  "  asked  he  in  an 
indifferent  tone. 

"  Indeed  that  is  not  hard  to  say,"  an- 
swered she.  "  In  my  eyes  Alma  Kerner  is 
the  most  beautiful." 

"And  yet  so  simply  attired." 

"  Ah  !  one  endowed  by  nature  with  so 
much  beauty  does  not  need  the  assist- 
ance of  art." 

"  So  you  only  consider  those  to  need  a 
magnificent  attire  who  are  less  richly 
gifted  with  beauty  1 " 

"  Yes,  certainly.  Art  must  then  cover 
the  natural  deficiency." 

"  But  I  know  many  ladies  who  do  not 
need  magnificence  in  order  to  be  beauti- 
ful, and  yet  surround  themselves  with  it." 
"  Then  their  beauty  must  be  of  the  kind 
that  needs  a  full  and  brilliant  toilet  to 
appear  to  advantage." 

"Not  all.  You,  for  example."  He 
now  looked  at  her  again  with  that  at 
once  sharp,  warm,  and  penetrating  ex- 
pression. She  reddened  slightly,  but 
replied  without  the  least  constraint,  — 

"  You  cannot  mean  to  go  so  far  in 
politeness  as  to  count  me  among  the 
beautiful  ] " 

"  Yes,  I  certainly  do."  Uno  said  this 
in  a  tone  so  simple  and  free  from  gal- 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


lantry  that  it  almost  took  away  the 
flattery  in  the  words.  "  And  you  are 
just  one  of  those  who  are  as  beautiful  in 
a  simple  toilet  as  in  a  brilliant  one. 
Why  then  prefer  all  this  finery,  these 
ribbons  and  jewels,  which  change  a  wo- 
man's attire  into  a  specimen  of  all  the 
inventions  of  folly  1  If  I  was  a  woman, 
young  and  beautiful  as  you,  I  would 
never  display  anything  of  the  fashion 
journal  in  my  dress.  I  would  adorn  my- 
self with  my  genius,  my  youth,  and  nry 
happiness,  but  not  with  precious  stones 
and  lace.  You  possess  the  three  treas- 
ures that  I  have  named ;  why  then  stoop 
to  be  a  doll  ]  " 

"  We  are  all  dolls  in  the  evening ; 
large  children,  who  adorn  ourselves  for  a 
moment's  pleasure." 

"  But  you  are  the  finest." 

"  Possibly,  although  I  do  not  think  so  ; 
but  at  a  fancy-dress  ball  we  always 
strive  to  render  our  meed  of  homage  to 
the  hostess  by  the  magnificence  of  our 
costume." 

"  It  does  not  become  you  to  take  part 
.in  such  a  strife." 

"  You  mean  to  say  by  this  that  I  ought 
not  to  take  part  in  the  fancy-dress  ball." 

"  0  yes,  but  not  as  one  who  wishes 
to  surpass  all  others  in  show  and  folly. 
Besides,  what  I  now  say  does  not  merely 
refer  to  this  evening.  You  are  always  in 
the  arena  of  vanity." 

Not  even  now  did  Ellen's  face  change. 
She  maintained  a  calmness  and  com- 
posure which  was  almost  habitual  with 
her  in  society.  With  a  charming  smile 
she  answered,  — 

"  Is  not  vanity  one  of  woman's  inher- 
ited sins  ?  Do  not  ask  then  that  I  shall 
be  more  free  from  it  than  the  rest  of 
my  sex." 

Uno  leaned  against  the  back  of  Ellen's 
chair.  He  whispered,  — 

"  A  woman  of  your  genius  ought  to  be 
ambitious,  but  not  vain.  She  ought  to 
despise  to  be  a  parlor  doll,  when  she 
might  be  a  distinguished  person  through 


her  genius.  Applause  ought  never  to 
outweigh  esteem,  nor  the  praise  of  the 
moment  that  universal  respect  which  is 
felt  for  a  quiet  but  useful  life." 

"  Give  me  genius  and  I  will  then  be- 
come ambitious,"  said  Ellen,  gayly. 

"  What  God  has  bestowed,  no  other 
needs  to  give  you." 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted 
by  the  music.  Ellen  was  led  away  in  the 
dance,  and  Uno  went  to  seek  his  partner. 


A  few  days  after  the  ball  at  Baroness 
Ernstein's  there  was  a  reception  at  Jus- 
tice of  Ochard's.  When  Evert  met  his 
wife  in  the  saloon,  he  burst  out,  — 

"  Good  gracious,  Ellen,  how  you  are 
dressed  !  You  look  just  as  if  you  did 
not  expect  company,  and  yet  you  know 
that  I  have  invited  several  members 
of  the  '  Riddahus,' *  besides  other  in- 
fluential representatives.  To  them  I 
shall  this  evening  present  my  wife,  the 
poetess  Ellen  of  Ochard,  and  in  such  a 
toilet  !  My  dear,  you  cannot  have 
seen  yourself  in  the  glass ;  just  look 
here  ! "  He  led  her  to  a  large  mirror. 
"  Do  you  really  think  that  you  are 
dressed  with  the  elegance  that  ought  to 
distinguish  you?  My  dear  Ellen,  I  am 
truly  sorry  that  you  pay  so  little  regard 
to  my  ideas ;  and  yet  you  ought  to  have 
an  unlimited  confidence  in  them,  the 
same  as  every  one  else  has.  You  are  the 
only  one  who  impugns  my  judgment  and 
discrimination  in  all  that  concerns  fine 
tact." 

"  My  dear,"  replied  Ellen  mildly,  "  it 
is  a  fancy  of  mine  to  be  simple  to-day, 
let  me  follow  it.  I  shall  try  to  compen- 
sate with  my  music  for  what  is  lacking  in 
my  toilet ;  are  you  not  satisfied  with 
this]" 

"  I  do  not  see  why  you  should  look  so 
exceedingly  simple  just  to-day,  when  I 

*  Corresponding  to  the  House  of  Lords  in 
England. 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


51 


desired  to  show  you  to  advantage.  Look 
at  yourself,  your  appearance  is  very  or- 
dinary." 

Ellen  contemplated  her  image  in  the 
glass. 

"It  seems  to  me  that  my  attire, 
though  simple,  is  in  very  good  taste.  Is 
not  this  lilac  barege  pretty,  and  Ingrid 
has  certainly  arranged  my  hair  very 
nicely  1 " 

"  I  should  have  nothing  to  say  against 
your  dress  or  hair,  if  you  wore  a  tasteful 
and  elegant  head-dress  of  ribbon  or  velvet, 
and  if  the  monotony  of  your  attire  was 
relieved  by  a  breast-knot  fastened  with 
your  beautiful  ruby  brooch,  and  if  you 
were  bracelets  on  your  wrists  as  well  as 
a  richer  lace  set,  which  would  give  some- 
thing ethereal  and  noble  to  that  intoler- 
able barege.  These  little  changes  are 
soon  made,  and  I  desire  you  to  make 
them." 

Ellen  sighed  and  would  have  complied 
with  her  husband's  desire,  had  not  Baron- 
ess Ernstein  just  then  arrived.  When 
they  had  greeted  the  Baroness,  Evert 
said,  smiling,  as  he  pointed  to  his 
wife,  — 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Ellen's  toilet 
to-day  1  Does  she  not  rather  resemble  a 
lady's-maid  than  a  hostess  who  is  to  re- 
ceive company  1 " 

"  Not  at  all.  Ellen  is  charming  just 
as  she  is.  Her  appearance  is  very  har- 
monious and  original ;  for  simplicity  en- 
hances the  noble  beauty  of  her  features. 
There  is  a  delicate  coquetry  in  the  choice 
you  have  this  evening  made,  and  you  are 
so  lovely  in  this  simple  attire  that  you 
could  never  be  more  so  if  you  appeared 
in  a  grande  toilette.'" 

All  further  comment  on  this  highly 
important  subject  was  deferred,  on  ac- 
count of  the  arrival  of  several  guests. 

Ellen,  who  possessed  an  unusual  facili- 
ty-on  the  piano,  and  both  a  poetic  and 
musical  comprehension  besides,  was  a 
real  treasure  to  the  music-loving.  This 
evening  she  played  in  a  trio  for  piano, 


violin,  and  violoncello.  Uno  came  in 
during  its  performance,  without  Ellen's 
observing  him.  After  the  trio  she  played 
something  of  Chopin,  after  which  Baron- 
ess Ernstein  sang  two  romances. 

When  Ellen  left  the  instrument  she 
became  aware  of  Uno's  presence  and  sa- 
luted him.  While  the  Baroness  was 
singing  he  approached  the  young  host- 
ess. 

"  Does  Ellen  never  sing  nowadays  ? " 
asked  he. 

"  Never  in  company." 

"  Why  not  1     Therein  you  do  wrong." 

"  I  have  never  learned  to  sing.  I  pos- 
sess no  especial  voice,  and  therefore  it 
can  never  enter  my  mind  to  sing  before  a 
large  gathering.  I  go  so  far,  that  I 
think  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to 
utter  a  note  if  I  knew  that  there  were 
many  listening  to  me." 

"  But  still  I  have  heard  you  sing,  and  I 
can  solemnly  assure  you,  without  flattery, 
that  no  singing  ever  made  a  deeper  im- 
pression upon  me." 

"  If  I  dared  to  believe  your  words,  I 
should  attribute  it  to  the  circumstance 
that  I  then  sang  for  myself,  without  sus- 
pecting that  any  one  listened.  When  I 
am  alone,  it  appears  to  me  sometimes  as 
if  I  wished  to  breathe  out  my  soul  in 
song,  something  which  I  neither  could 
nor  would  do  before  a  whole  society." 

"  You  are  afraid  to  let  the  world  look 
into  your  soul." 

"  Yes,  I  belong  to  the  number  of  those 
reserved  people,  towards  whom  you  feel 
an  actual  antipathy,"  answered  Ellen,  and 
smiled  mischievously. 

"  Ah  !  you  have  a  good  memory.  Yes, 
it  is  true,  I  do  not  love  reserved  charac- 
ters. You  are  thus  very  reserved  ] " 

"  Yes,  very." 

"And  yet  Sappho  said  she  had  never 
known  a  franker  person  than  Ellen,"  said 
Uno. 

"  That  is  also  true.  When  I  approve 
or  disapprove  a  thing,  I  always  express 
myself  frankly.  I  cannot  be  induced  to 


52 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


praise  with   a  word  what  my  heart  re- 
jects." 

"  I  have  had  proof  of  this." 

A  moment  afterwards  Baroness  Augus- 
ta had  taken  her  place  beside  Count  Uno, 
and,  they  were  soon  engaged  in  a  lively 
conversation.  Ellen  stood  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, talking  earnestly  with  two  elderly 
gentlemen  and  a  lady  by  the  name  of 
Fru  K***,  who  was  much  spoken  of 
for  her  culture.  Just  as  the  Baroness 
was  speaking  with  ecstasy  about  Naples, 
she  said  to  Uno,  — 

"  Is  not  Ellen  charming  7 " 

"Yes,  indeed.  At  this  moment  her 
face  has  both  life  and  feeling.  What  are 
they  speaking  of?" 

"  Dante's  Divina  Commedia.  I  do  not 
know  anything  about  it,  for  I  cannot 
speak  Italian,  and  have  never  read  Dante  ; 
but  for  those  four  who  have  read  the 
distinguished  poet,  the  conversation  is 
probably  interesting.  What  I  admire  is 
Ellen's  appearance." 

"  And  I  her  simplicity  for  the  day." 

"  Yes,  is  it  not  truly  becoming  to  her  1 
Yet  I  would  not  advise  her  to  dress  so 
all  the  time,  for  it  would  then  have  a 
touch  of  affectation.  No,  may  she,  our 
little  poetess,  show  that  she  is  also  a 
woman  by  adorning  herself  like  the  rest 
of  us.  I  cannot  bear  to  see  literary  wo- 
men careless  in  their  appearance  or 
dressed  with  a  studied  simplicity.  Their 
intellectual  pride  shines  through  the 
much-praised  humility,  and  I  fancy  that 
I  see  written  upon  it  in  large  characters, 
My  genius  is  so  great  that  I  despise 
every  other  ornament." 

"  I  would  like  to  assert  that  the  sim- 
ple and  the  great  are  inseparable.  A 
gifted  and  distinguished  woman  ought  to 
show  just  through  the  simplicity  of  her 
appearance  that  she  is  above  frivolity." 

"God  preserve  us  from  such  perfec- 
tion and  distinguished  geniuses  !  I  cannot 
endure  them.  We  are  all  children  of 
folly,  and  I  like  to  see  human  weaknesses 
go  hand  in  hand  with  human  virtues. 


Count  Uno,  I  can  never  come  to  admire 
a  genius  clad  in  tow-cloth,  or  a  moralist 
in  sackcloth  and  ashes." 

Uno  laughed. 

"  Then  you  advocate  the  manner  of 
life  which  Fru  Ochard  follows  1 " 

"  Advocate  !  That  has  nothing  to  do 
with  it;  but  I  do  not  see  how  she 
c"ould  take  it  otherwise.  Young,  rich, 
beautiful,  and  endowed  with  all  the 
qualities  that  make  one  agreeable  in 
society,  it  is  but  natural  that  she  should 
draw  the  advantage  from  these  gifts. 
Or  would  you  wish  her,  with  her  poet- 
ical mind,  to  settle  down  as  a  hermit 
in  a  large  cityl" 

-  "  Not  by  any  means ;  but  I  wish  that 
every  married  woman,  handsome  or  ugly, 
rich  or  poor,  should  first  and  foremost 
know  how  to  value  domestic  happiness ; 
that  she  should  be  able  to  promote  and 
enjoy  the  delight  of  family  life,  making 
pleasure  a  secondary  consideration,  not 
the  main  object." 

"  You  men  are  indeed  strange  beings. 
You  desire  that  we  women  shall  be  free 
from  all  the  faults  which  you  yourselves 
possess.  Thus,  for  example,  you  are'  con- 
tinually talking  about  women's  vanity 
and  what  slaves  we  are  to  the  fashion, 
but  it  never  enters  your  minds  that  you 
are  equally  so.  At  one  time  you  wear 
cloaks  so  long  that  you  can  scarcely 
walk ;  at  another  they  are  so  short  that 
you  get  the  rheumatism.  Only  think  of 
all  the  varieties  of  coats,  vests,  and  capes, 
etc,  etc.,  and  then  tell  me  if  the  two 
sexes  cannot  give  each  other  the  hand 
in  this  respect  and  acknowledge,  'We 
are  great  fools  on  both  sides.'  But  that 
is  only  a  trifling  matter.  We  women  have 
a  limited  vanity  which  extends  merely 
to  our  toilet  and  our  amiable  efforts  to 
be  agreeable ;  but  yours,  it  goes  through 
all  your  actions.  You  call  it  ambition. 
Ah,  that  is  a  beautiful  sign-board  on  a 
great  fault ;  a  fine  word  behind  which 
many  mean  deeds  are  concealed.  To 
gratify  your  desire  for  distinction,  you 


THE  WIFE  OP  A  VAIN  MAN. 


53 


sacrifice  everybody  and  everything.-  You 
lend  yourselves  to  slander,  cabals,  and 
machinations  against  those  who  stand  in 
your  way.  You  betray  king,  religion, 
and  people,  if  you  can  only  win  popu- 
larity by  it.  You  betray  friends  and 
parents,  break  the  holiest  obligations,  and 
sell  your  convictions  for  a  star  or  the 
prospect  of  promotion.  Hapless  the  one 
who  stands  in  the  way  of  your  vanity, 
who  is  a  hindrance  to  it,  or  who  wishes 
to  contest  a  never  so  little  victory.  You 
try  to  injure  him  in  every  conceivable 
way,  public  and  private,  careless  of  the 
means  you  employ,  in  order  to  gratify 
your  envy  and  your  revenge.  Yes, 
Count,  our  vanity  if  compared  with  yours 
stands  in  the  same  relation  to  it  as  a 
child  to  a  giant.  Think  of  the  streams 
of  blood  your  vanity  has  cost  the  world. 
For  a  Napoleon  to  gain  an  immortal 
name,  millions  of  human  lives  have  been 
sacrificed  ;  and  yet  you  talk  of  our  desire 
of  applause.  Be  still !  for  should  we 
make  up  our  accounts  on  this  point,  you 
would  be  forced  to  acknowledge  with 
horror  that  your  'noble  ambition'  was 
very  much  like  a  bloodthirsty  hyena, 
while  our  love  of  approbation  confined 
itself  to  a  little  rouge,  a  few  jewels,  and 
a  coquettish  smile." 

"  In  all  that  you  have  now  said  you 
are  perfectly  right ;  but  it  has  changed 
nothing  in  my  assertion,  that  woman 
ought  to  place  domestic  happiness  before 
the  desire  of  amusing  herself.  From 
vain  mothers  are  born  vain  sons,  and 
according  to  your  own  picture  this  is 
something  that  we  ought  to  fear.  There- 
fore women  should  have  another  aim  than 
to  be  thoughtless  fools  in  the  great  mad- 
house of  vanity." 

"  Very  true  ;  but  if  fate,  which  some- 
times takes  strange  freaks,  gives  a  wo- 
man a  husband  who  knows  as  little  of 
domestic  happiness  as  I  of  the  customs* 
in  the  moon,  what  shall  she  then  do1? 
Compel  him  to  be  happy  in  a  way  that 
is  contrary  to  his  nature  1  I  assure  you 


that  this  would  be  a  fruitless  effort.  If, 
in  addition  to  this,  he  married  for  money 
and  to  gain  an  opportunity  of  leading  a 
life  which  satisfies  all  the  requirements 
of  his  vanity,  what  course  shall  the  wife 
then  adopt  1  Why,  follow  her  husband 
quite  dutifully.  They  are  like  a  pair  of 
horses  harnessed  to  the  car  of  folly ; 
when  one  draws,  the  other  must  draw 
too,  and  for  the  ignorant  beholder  it  is 
difficult  to  decide  which  of  the  two 
horses  forced  the  other  to  go,  from  the 
beginning." 

"I  think  you  now  go  a  little  too  far 
in  your  attack  upon  our  vanity,"  said 
the  Count,  who  was  amused  by  the 
Baroness's  lively  manner  of  calumniating 
his  sex. 

"  May  be ;  but  if  this  is  so,  it  comes 
from  the  fact  that  I  have  seen  so  much 
that  is  contemptible  in  you  men,  occa- 
sioned by  pure  vanity.  So,  for  example, 
I  knew  a  man  who  married  a  lovely 
young  girl  because  she  was  a  fine  pian- 
ist. After  she  became  his  wife  it  was 
his  highest  joy  to  have  her  shine  with 
her  talent.  She  had  to  play  early  and 
late,  at  all  times  and  in  all  places, 
because  the  praise  that  she  received 
flattered  his  vanity.  That  was  his  way 
of  being  happy  with  his  wife.  The  vain 
man  did  not  conceive  that  the  woman 
had  a  heart,  warm  and  loving,  and  in  vain 
would  she  have  attempted  to  make  him 
comprehend  it.  I  knew  another,  who 
was  a  very  learned  and  cultivated  man, 
and  sufficiently  distinguished  in  his  de- 
partment to  be  in  no  need  of  striving 
for  anything  more  than  the  respect  that 
was  rendered  him,  but  who,  nevertheless, 
besieged  the  court  and  the  nobility  and 
made  himself  a  laughing-stock  for  all 
thinking  people  through  his  slavish  offi- 
ciousness ;  all  the  while  speaking  of  orders 
and  ribbons  with  the  greatest  contempt. 
He  finally  obtained  an  order,  and  came 
very  near  losing  his  reason  in  his  de- 
light !  But  it  would  be  an  endless  task 
to  enumerate  all  the  examples  of  petty 


54 


THE  WIFE  OP  A  VAIN  MAN. 


and  contemptible  vanity  in  you  men ; 
so  we  will  return  to  the  Ochards. 
Which  of  them  do  you  consider  to  be 
the  one  who  is  passionately  devoted  to 
the  frivolous  and  prodigal  manner  of  life 
that  you  censure  1 " 

"The  cause  of  it  naturally  proceeds 
from  the  wife,  for  in  such  cases  it  is  al- 
ways she  who  prevails ;  but  still  I  con- 
sider him  sufficiently  vain  to  comply 
very  readily  with  her  notions,  and  per- 
haps also,  in  certain  cases,  to  share  her 
love  of  display." 

"  0  yes,  there  we  have  it !  It  is 
woman's  fault,  must  be  woman's,  cannot 
possibly  be  man's.  How  could  he,  this 
image  of  God,  have  any  weaknesses  ? 
Your  self-love,  my  dear  sir,  is  really 
ridiculous." 

"  Then  you  mean  to  say  that  Fru 
Ochard  is  compelled  by  her  husband  to 
be  the  most  elegant  woman,  the  first  who 
adopts  a  new  fashion,  and  the  one  who 
displays  the  greatest  magnificence  in  her 
attire  1 "  He  smiled  contemptuously. 

"  Please  remember  my  comparison  of 
the  horses.  Now  when  Ochard  sets  off 
at  full  speed  on  vanity's  broad  road,  and 
Ellen  is  harnessed  with  him,  what  re- 
mains for  her  but  to  run  too  1  You 
ought  to  have  heard  him  when  I  came  ; 
he  was  in  half  despair  over  Ellen's  simple 
dress.  Look  at  her  just  now  as  she 
sits  there ;  does  she  seem  as  if  she  was 
entertained  here  ? " 

Uno  followed  her  advice,  and  discov- 
ered Ellen  sitting  in  an  easy-chair,  pale 
and  tired  out.  She  looked  indifferently 
before  her,  while  a  young  foreigner  was 
talking  to  her. 

"  Well,  how  do  you  think  she  looks  1 
Perhaps  happy  to  be  admired  by  Herr 
Canovi  ? " 

"  She  looks  fatigued.  I  believe  how- 
ever that  some  little  personal  dislike  lies 
at  the  bottom  of  your  severity  towards 
Ochard." 

"  Personal  1 "  The  Baroness  threw  her 
head  back  and  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 


Then  she  burst  out  laughing.  "  I  bet 
anything  that  superlative  fool  Ochard 
tries  to  make  people  believe  I  have  been 
in  love  with  him." 

"  Why  say  have  been  instead  of  am  ?  " 
whispered  a  young  man  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Baroness,  who  had  sat  there 
the  whole  of  the  time  they  were  convers- 
ing, without  her  observing  it.  It  was  her 
brother  in-law. 

"  Ah  !  is  that  you,  Hugo  1 "  said  she, 
and  turned  to  the  young  man  with  an 
almost  haughty  inclination  of  the  head. 
"I  assure  you  that  I  am  sufficiently  at 
home  in  the  rules  of  language  not  to 
confound  a  present  with  a  past  time. 
If  Ochard  says  that  I  have  been  in  love 
with  him,  his  words  contain  a  ridiculous 
boast ;  if  he  asserts  that  I  am  so,  then 
they  comprise  an  affront."  She  rose  and 
left  the  two  gentlemen. 

Some  days  after  this  Ellen  and  her 
husband  were  sitting  at  the  breakfast- 
table.  Evert  was  silent,  and  when  he  said 
anything  it  was  in  a  crabbed  manner. 
He  had  felt  ill-disposed  towards  his  wife 
ever  since  the  conversation  with  Count- 
ess Rubens.  He  could  by  no  means 
forgive  Ellen  for  the  fact  that  Emy  did 
not  consider  her  perfectly  happy,  or  him 
as  the  ideal  of  a  married  man.  Without 
comprehending  the  cause,  Ellen  had  per- 
ceived his  state  of  mind.  If  she  had 
regarded  life  with  less  indifference,  and 
had  not  considered  their  domestic  con- 
dition past  remedy,  she  would  probably 
have  made  some  inquiries  of  her  husband, 
and  tried  through  her  tenderness  to  dis- 
pel the  cloud  from  his  brow.  Now,  on 
the  contrary,  she  had,  since  her  fruitless 
attempt  to  induce  him  to  sacrifice  some 
of  these  empty  pleasures  for  their  mutual 
happiness,  come  to  so  sorrowful  a  conclu- 
sion, that  she  regarded  as  futile  every 
effort  on  her  part  to  spread  comfort  and 
joy  in  the  home,  as  her  husband  did  not 
place  any  value  on  quiet  domestic  happi- 
ness. She  had  resolved  to  live  in  a  way 
that  seemed  most  in  accordance  with  his 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN". 


55 


tastes,  seeking  only  in  prayer  the  conso- 
lation she  needed  and  the  strength  to 
endure  a  course  of  life  so  directly  in 
opposition  to  her  nature  and  all  that  she 
had  dreamed  and  imagined  of  the  joys 
of  family  life.  Not  content  with  leaving 
her  no  choice  but  to  continue  this  killing 
manner  of  life,  he  -wished  to  assert  both 
before  her  and  others  that  he  did  it 
because  she  could  not  be  happy  in  any 
other  way.  Her  husband's  whole  conduct 
showed  plainly  that  he  neither  desired 
nor  intended  to  make  any  change  in  the 
course  he  had  planned.  Evert  drank  his 
coffee  in  silence.  Finally  he  looked  up 
and  said  quite  suddenly,  — 

"  I  suppose  that  poem  which  you  were 
to  write  about  Gustaf  Adolf  will  never  be 
ready.  It  might  gain  the  prize  ;  but  you, 
with  your  self-love,  affect  to  despise  such 
a  distinction.  You  know  that  it  would 
give  me  pleasure,  and  therefore  you  do 
not  care  anything  about  it. " 

"  I  thought  you  had  a  better  opinion 
of  me ;  for  you  know  full  well,  in  your 
heart,  that  I  would  willingly  do  anything 
that  could  afford  you  joy.  A  proof  of 
this  is  that  my  poem  is  already  written/' 

"  Really !  Then  I  suppose  I  must 
ascribe  this  happy  circumstance  to  some 
impulse  from  other  persons." 

"  Why  speak  with  this  bitterness,  Ev- 
ert 1  You  kn.ow  right  well  that  what  I 
have  done  in  this  case  was  solely  for  your 
sake."  Ellen  offered  him  her  hand,  but 
he  did  not  accept  it,  and  merely  said,  — 

"  You  are  too  good  !  "  He  approached 
the  door  leading  to  his  own  room. 
"  Send  the  manuscript  to  me."  With 
this  he  went  in. 

In  a  few  minutes  afterwards  Ellen  in- 
tended to  go  in  to  her  husband  with  the 
manuscript,  but  was  checked  by  the 
sound  of  voices  in  his  room. 

"  Then  you  promise  me  to  attack  Gran 
right  sharply  in  that  article,  and  I  give 
you  my  word  in  return  that  you  shall  be 
promoted  before  him,  although  he,  as  an 
older  man,  might  be  more  entitled  to  it." 


Ellen  heard  these  words  uttered  by  some 
one  inside.  She  did  not  reflect  much 
upon  them,  but  sent  Evert's  servant  in 
with  the  manuscript,  and  gave  herself 
up  to  the  pleasure  which  so  seldom  oc- 
curred to  her  of  being  a  few  moments 
undisturbed. 

The  next  evening  but  one  Ellen  found 
herself  alone  at  home.  Evert  was  at  the 
"  Eiddarhus  "  ;  she  had  denied  herself 
to  visitors,  and  had  resolved  to  spend 
the  evening  alone  by  herself,  when  Ingrid 
entered, — 

"  Baroness  Ernstein  wishes  to  see 
your  Grace.  She  says  that  you  will  cer- 
tainly receive  her,  so  much  the  more,  as 
the  Justice  told  her  that  you  were  at 
home." 

"  Bid  the  Baroness  welcome,"  replied 
Ellen-,  and  rose  to  go  into  the  saloon. 

"  It  is-  unnecessary,  my  friend,  here  I 
am  ;  we  need  not  meet  with  great  cere- 
mony in  the  saloon,"  exclaimed  the  Bar- 
oness. "  But  you  must  not  imagine  that 
I  come  alone.  No,  God  preserve  you 
from  spending  a  whole  evening  in  my 
company ;  in  half  an  hour  you  w ill 
have  the  house  full  of  people,  but  an  en- 
tirely new  society,  namely,  some  distin- 
guished literati,  besides  Count  Uno 
Kerner  and  Sappho.  We  shall  have  a 
charming  little  soiree,  with  music  and 
poetry.  Just  the  man  to  please  you." 

In  a  half-hour  from  that  time  there 
was  a  little  company  of  ten  persons. 
They  had  music,  conversed  about  litera- 
ture, and  for  the  first  time  Ellen  found 
that  even  social  life  can  have  its  delights ; 
yet  this  was  no  grande  societe,  but  a 
select  little  gathering  of  gifted  persons. 
Ellen  was  animated  and  spoke  with  an 
enthusiasm  which  rendered  her  beautiful, 

"  Could  Ellen  not  be  persuaded,  if  we 
all  united  and  asked  her  to  improvise  1 " 
asked  Sappho.  "We,  who  are  here  as- 
sembled, promise  never  to  speak  of  it." 

A  cloud  spread  over  Ellen's  beaming 
face,  and  she  answered  in  a  tone  of  earnest 
decision,  — 


56 


THE  WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


"  Four  years  ago  I  made  myself  a  sol- 
emn promise  never  to  do  anything  of  the 
kind,  and  I  neither  can  nor  will  break 
this  resolution." 

She  felt  that  Uno's  eyes  were  fastened 
upon  her,  and  a  deep  blush  covered  her 
cheeks  as  she  remembered  the  words 
which  he  had  dropped,  and  which  had 
induced  her  to  take  this  resolution. 

"  Make  a  single  exception  to  that 
promise,"  cried  those  around  her. 

"  One  is  not  allowed  to  make  an  excep- 
tion to  a  promise ;  and  when  I  assure  you 
that  I  have  not  even  done  it  for  my  hus- 
band, I  hope  you  will  see  that  I  cannot 
do  it  now." 

The  question  dropped ;  but  neither 
Uno  nor  Ellen  took  so  lively  a  part  in 
the  conversation  as  before.  Soon  after 
Uno  approached  Ellen,  saying,  — 

"  You  have  a  good  memory."  He 
seated  himself  beside  her. 

"  Why  do  you  say  so  1 " 

"  Because  I  believe  that  a  little  re- 
venge lies  in  the  promise  you  spoke 
of." 

A  revenge  1  On  whom  should  I  wish 
to  be  revenged  1 " 

"  On  me." 

"  On  you,  Uno  !  You  do  not  think  as 
you  say.  How.  could  I  be  revenged  by 
sparing  you  an  unpleasantness  ]  " 

"  There  it  is  !  After  four  years  you 
are  still  angry  over  the  words  which  I 
dropped  the  first  and  only  time  I  heard 
you  improvise.  You  cannot  forgive  it 
that  I  refused  you  my  admiration." 

"  What  a  singular  misunderstanding ! " 

"  Then  give  me  an  explanation." 

"  Not  now."  Ellen  left  Uno  and  min- 
gled in  the  general  conversation.  The 
Count  remained  and  looked  after  her, 
but  with  a  peculiar  blending  of  irony 
and  melancholy  in  the  expression  of  his 
face. 


The  next  day  we  find  Ellen  at  Count 
Rubens's,  where  only  a  few  relatives  had 


assembled.  Oehard  talked  politics  with 
the  older  gentlemen,  and  descanted  on 
yesterday's  debate  in  the  "  Riddarhus." 
The  Justice  was  considered  au  unusually 
lible  man,  because  he  talked  well  and 
wrote  with  facility.  No  one  examined 
closer  to  find  how  much,  was  his  own  and 
how  much  borrowed  iu  his  speech  or 
writings.  People  found  them  popular 
and  evincing  judgment,  —  an  opinion  to 
which  Evert  himself,  in  various  little 
crooked  ways,  had  succeeded  in  bringing 
the  public. 

Baroness  Ernstem  sang  a  duet  with 

Herr  D -n\.  Ellen  sat  in  a  little 

corner  sofa  and  listened.  When  the 
song  was  ended,  Uno  approached  her 
and  said,  — 

"  You  have  owed  me  an  explanation 
since  yesterday,  and  I  have  now  come  to 
obtain  it." 

"  What  use  is  it  to  take  up  these  old 
subjects,"  answered  Ellen,  with  a  slight 
blush.  "You  have  always  had  difficulty 
in  understanding  dispositions  such  as 
mine." 

"  But  you  are  too  just  to  leave  me 
without  any  explanation." 

"  Well  then,  I  will  comply  with  your 
wish."  Uno's  glance  governed  her,  as  it 
were,  through  the  eamestness  which  rest- 
ed in  it.  "  You  thought  I  was  wounded 
because  you  refused  me  your  homage  for 
my  little  ability  to  improvise.  But  you 
were  mistaken.  I  neither  sought  nor 
coveted  your  homage  ;  but  you  wounded 
me  deeply  by  the  expression  you  dropped 
concerning  me,  when  you  denied  me 
heart  and  feeling,  and  declared  that  I 
was  a  light-minded  creature,  who  strove 
exclusively  for  the  applause  of  others. 
You  wished  to  regard  me  as  a  vain  fool, 
and  thus  did  me  injustice.  So  I  thought 
then  ;  but  now  —  " 

She  ceased.  Her  face  wore  an  expres- 
sion of  melancholy. 

"  Continue,  I  beg,"  said  Uno. 

She  looked  at  him  with  her  open, 
honest  gaze. 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


"Now  I  vrould  almost  be  ready  to 
thank  you  for  the  stern  judgment." 

"  0  Ellen,  you  are  now  bitter  !  " 

"Not  at  all.  Your  assertion  that  I 
was  vain,  that  I  burned  with  the  desire 
of  being  praised  and  flattered,  led  me  to 
think,  and  the  result  was  that  I  ex- 
amined myself  and  found  that  I  was  not 
so  insensible  to  this  praise  as  I  had 
believed.  I  then  resolved,  as  a  penance, 
never  to  appear  before  others  as  an  im- 
provisatrice,  or  in  this  capacity  give 
nourishment  to  my  desire  of  applause. 
I  should  blush  before  myself  if  compelled 
to  acknowledge  that  I  was  a  slave  to  my 
vanity." 

"  You  have  never  improvised  since?" 

"  Never  when  any  one  heard  it." 

"But  you  have  published  your  poet- 
ical attempts.  Is  there  not  as  much 
vanity  in  giving  people  an  opportunity 
to  admire  your  genius  in  print,  as  if  you 
declaimed  these  poetical  inspirations  1 " 

Ellen  bent  down  her  head. 

"  There  is  more  ambition  in  the  latter 
course  and  more  vanity  in  the  former." 

"  Ambition  ?  What  is  that  but  vani- 
ty 1  The  desire  for  applause  is  contained 
in  both  these  feelings." 

Ellen  made  no  reply ;  for  they  had 
now  entered  a  domain  where  she  was 
obliged  to  maintain  silence  ;  she  could 
not  as  a  wife  say  :  "  It  is  my  husband 
who  publishes  my  poems,  as  a  compen- 
sation for  my  not  improvising.  His  vani- 
ty needs  my  genius  to  shine  with." 

"Have  you  judged  yourself  aright? 
Or  do  you  think  you  have  actually 
overcome  your  vanity  with  this  resolu- 
tion not  to  appear  as  an  improvis- 
atrice  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so." 

"  And  this  love  of  display,  the  luxury 
with  which  you  surround  yourself,  the 
life  that  you  lead,  what  are  the  motives 
of  all  this  ? " 

"  Vanity,"  answered  Ellen  with  a  pe- 
culiar smile.  "But  why  continue  this 
conversation  longer?  If  we  overcome 


our  desires  in  one  respect,  we  find  them 
again  in  some  other." 

At  these  words  of  Ellen's,  Uno's  face 
brightened  and  his  eyes  rested  on  her 
with  an  expression  of  warm  sympathy. 
She  resumed,  — 

"  Explain  this  contradiction  in  your 
words,  Uno.  At  the  ball  at  Ernstein's 
you  bade  me  become  ambitious ;  to-day, 
when  I  said  that  I  allowed  my  poems  to 
be  printed  from  pure  ambition,  you  told 
me,  vanity  and  ambition  are  one  and 
the  same." 

"  They  have  their  ground  in  the  same 
feeling.  The  latter  is  only  a  higher  and 
nobler  thirst  for  applause.  The  ambi- 
tious person  would  have  a  name  to  which 
one  attaches  the  idea  of  something  un- 
common, noble,  or  elevated  ;  it  is  for  the 
future  he  works,  to  gain  the  respect  of 
others.  The  vain  individual,  on  the  other 
hand,  wishes  to  be  praised,  flattered, 
courted,  and  worshipped  for  trifles.  The 
applause  of  the  moment  is  what  he  cov- 
ets. To  appear  first,  to  be  noticed,  to 
outshine,  that  is  what  he  desires ;  he 
sacrifices  everything  in  order  to  be  flat- 
tered, and  to  see  a  crowd  of  thoughtless 
fools  collected  around  him,  who  pay 
homage  to  his  splendor,  wealth,  and 
folly.  This  is  what  vanity  would  reap. 
Well  then,  Ellen,  it  can  become  a  woman 
of  genius  to  be  ambitious,  to  be  vain 
degrades  her." 

"  You  are  mistaken  ;  vanity  belongs  to 
woman,  ambition  to  man.  He  belongs 
to  the  world,  she  to  social  ]jfe." 

A  moment's  silence  ensued.  At  last 
Uno  resumed,  — 

"  You  have  thus  no  grudge  remaining 
against  me  for  the  attack  which  I  once 
made  against  geniuses  in  general  and 
you  in  particular  ? " 

"  Grudge  !  Have  you  actually  believed 
me  to  entertain  anything  of  the  kind  ? " 

"  Once  I  did  not  believe  it,"  he  fal- 
tered. 

She  did  not  ask  when ;  she  divined  it, 
and  the  lively  color  on  her  cheeks  gave 


TEE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


Uno  reason  to  suppose  that  it  was  so; 
but  however  this  might  be,  she  resumed 
with  a  calm  voice,  — 

"  The  childish  resentment  which  I  at 
first  experienced  has  long  since  passed 
away,  and  I  consider  myself  to  stand  in 
debt  to  you  for  the  self-investigation 
which  has  resulted  from  your  words." 

"  And  will  you  hereafter  regard  me  as 
a  friend  who  possesses  the  right  to  speak 
frankly  to  you  1 " 

"  I  will." 

"  Give  me  your  hand  in  proof  that  we 
are  friends." 

Ellen  laid  her  hand  in  his. 

"  Thanks,  you  shall  never  have  reason 
to  repent  that  you  gave  me  your  friend- 
ship." 

When  Uno,  in  the  sincerity  of  his  heart, 
uttered  this  promise,  Asmodeus  surely 
laughed  behind  his  back  and  stretched 
out  his  imprecating  hands  over  them 
both. 

Just  at  the  moment,  when  she  gave 
him  her  hand,  Evert  came  towards  them. 

"What  is  my  Ellen  treating  of  with 
our  friend  the  Count  1 "  asked  he  in  the 
heartiest  tone  in  the  world,  quite  unlike 
the  one  with  which  he  addressed  her 
when  no  one  heard  it. 

"  Uno  and  I  have  promised  each  other 
friendship,"  answered  Ellen,  and  offered 
Evert  her  hand. 

"  That  is  exceedingly  fitting,  as  I  am 
also  happy  enough  to  count  myself 
among  his  friends,  and  it  was  always 
painful  to  me  to  see  you  as  hostile 
towards  each  other  as  you  were  formerly. 
Apropos,  my  dear  Kerner,  I  have  some- 
thing to  ask  of  you."  Ellen  rose  and 
Evert  took  her  place. 

After  that  evening  Uno  was  a  daily 
guest  at  Ochard's.  The  indefatigable 
Evert,  whose  aim  it  was  to  distinguish 
himself  in  all  conceivable  ways,  had  now 
established  two  reception-days  a  week  ; 
one,  for  artists,  literati,  and  musicians, 
the  other  for  the  more  aristocratic  por- 
tion of  their  acquaintances,  and  at  which 


everything  was  done  to  amuse  and 
entertain  these  guests,  who  through  the 
lustre  of  their  name  and  wealth  lent  a 
reflection  of  it  to  his  worth. 

During  the  first  days  of  March,  Evert 
Ochard  was  nominated  Assessor.  The 
appointment  was  celebrated  with  a  grand 
dinner  at  "  Bla  porten,"  and  a  few  days 
afterwards  the  new  Assessor  gave  a  large 
ball. 

They  had  already  begun  to  dance,  and 
yet  Uno  had  not  arrived.  He  had  not 
been  seen  for  a  whole  week. 

Surprised  at  his  absence,  Ellen  directed 
her  eyes  to  the  door  oftener  than  usual. 
Her  former  teacher,  Magister,  now  Rec- 
tor Dahl,  was  also  invited.  He  had  come 
to  the  capital  fourteen  days  before  to 
make  it  his  residence  and  to  investigate 
the  school  system.  Upon  his  arrival  in 
Stockholm,  he  had  hastened  to  visit  the 
Rubens,  Kerners,  and  Ochards.  He  hap- 
pened to  call  at  the  latter  place  on  one 
of  the  literary  evenings.  Uno  was  also 
there.  Dahl  was  received  by  Ellen  with 
the  undisguised  joy  which  she  felt  at  see- 
ing him  again.  Since  then  Uno  had  not 
met  him  either  at  Ochard's  or  elsewhere. 
They  had  begun  the  second  waltz, 
which  Ellen,  to  the  great  indignation  of 
her  husband,  danced  with  Rector  Dahl. 
Just  as  she  waltzed  past  the  door  of  the 
dancing-hall,  she  fancied  that  she  caught 
a  glimpse  of  a  dark  face  surrounded  by 
black  hair  and  whiskers,  with  a  pair  of 
flashing  eyes.  But  she  was  not  quite 
certain  whether  the  sight  was  real  or  im- 
agined; for  when  she  danced  by  the 
second  time,  she  did  not  see  him.  At 
length  the  waltz  was  over,  and  Dahl 
led  Ellen  into  the  saloon.  Then  there 
was  some  one  who  saluted  her  from  a 
distance  with  a  cold  look  and  stiff  bow. 
It  was  —  Uno. 

His  greeting  and  whole  behavior  as- 
tonished her  exceedingly,  especially  as 
their  intercourse  had  of  late  been  dis- 
tinguished by  a  friendly  and  simple 
confidence,  free  from  all  constraint.  She 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


59 


treated  him  like  a  brother.  This  had 
been  so  much  the  easier  for  her  as  his 
whole  relation  towards  her  lacked  the 
gallantry  which  is  so  usual  with  men. 
There  was  such  calmness  in  all  his  move- 
ments, that  Ellen  felt  tranquil  in  his 
presence,  and  without  the  least  uneasi- 
ness abandoned  herself  to  the  pleasure 
of  his  society. 

Now  there  was  something  strange  and 
disturbed  behind  his  stiff  and  measured 
greeting  which  awakened  a  certain  shy- 
ness in  her. 

For  the  whole  evening  he  neither 
approached  her  nor  took  part  in  the 
dance,  buf  continued  a  passive  beholder. 

During  the  supper  he  conversed  with 
Count  Oscar  Kerner.  Ellen  stood  at  a 
little  distance  and  heard  Oscar  say,  — 

"  Do  people  generally  then  think  that 
Ochard  wrote  that  attack  against  Gran, 
which  caused  him  to  be  superseded  1 " 

"  Yes,  they  are  fully  convinced  of  it. 
It  would  be  very  bad  for  Ochard  if  he 
should  have  been  guilty  of  so  mean  an 
action ;  for  it  is  a  great  injustice  com- 
mitted against  Gran,  and  Ochard's  nomi- 
nation has  already  aroused  sufficient 
indignation,  from  the  fact  that  Gran, 
who  is  a  highly  deserving  man,  has  been 
supplanted." 

"  I,  for  my  part,  do  not  believe  that 
Ochard  could  allow  himself  to  be  tempt- 
ed to  take  so  mean  a  step.  To  try  to 
raise  himself  by  putting  down  an  asso- 
ciate, —  I  consider  him  to  have  too  much 
honor  for  that." 

"  Bah  !  he  is  a  vain  fool,  and  such  a 
one  has  no  regard  for  honor  or  friendship. 
He  cares  only  to  distinguish  himself,  at 
whatever  price.  For  the  attainment  of 
this  object  he  will  sacrifice  anything." 

Ellen  withdrew,  without  the  speaker's 
observing  that  she  had  heard  them.  But 
there  was  a  painful  feeling  in  her  heart. 
A  few  moments  later  she  found  herself 
face  to  face  with  Uno.  This  time  he 
could  not  avoid  speaking  to  her. 

"  You  are  well,  I  hope  ? " 


"  Perfectly  well,  Count,"  answered  El- 
len. 

"  One  always  feels  well  when  one  is 
happy." 

"  And    we   are    always    happy   when 
things  go  well  with  those  we  love.     Is  •• 
not   my  husband's  promotion  a  natural 
cause  for  my  feeling  glad  !  " 

"  Indeed  !  I  did  not  think  that  you 
took  so  deep  an  interest  in  his  brilliant 
success,  —  a  success  which  has  caused 
another  family  deep  pain.  I  thought, 
besides,  that  your  happiness  proceeded 
from  a  person  who  with  more  right  could 
attribute  to  himself  the  merit  of  spread- 
ing joy." 

"  Then  you  were  wrong,"  replied  Ellen, 
almost  haughtily.  "  My  husband's  pros- 
perity and  success  are  mine,  and  I  have 
too  high  an  opinion  of  him  to  believe 
that  he  has  secured  them  through  any- 
thing but  his  deserts." 

"  But  to  see  old  friends  again,  does 
that  contain  nothing  for  your  heart  ? " 
The  word  "  heart "  was  pronounced  with 
strong  emphasis.  Ellen  felt  irritated ; 
something  of  the  former  bitterness  awoke 
within  her,  just  as  when  he  used  to  make 
his  cutting  remarks. 

"  I  always  feel  glad  to  see  my  real 
friends  again." 

"  And  that  pleasure  you  have  now  en- 
joyed in  full  draughts.  Therefore  I  con- 
gratulate you." 

"  Of  whom  do  you  speak  1  I  do  not 
•like  these  attacks,  without  aim  or  pur- 
pose. They  are  like  pin  points,  which 
irritate  without  having  the  power  to 
wound." 

"  The  object  stands  directly  before  us." 

"  Dahl ! "  exclaimed  Ellen,  who  raised 
her  eyes  and  saw  her  former  teacher's 
handsome  and  intelligent  face.  "  Yes,  you 
are  right,  it  was  a  real  joy  to  see  him 
again.  He  has  always  been  a  true  friend 
to  me  and  an  untiring  teacher."  Ellen 
said  this  with  undisguised  heartiness. 

"  A  joy  for  which  you,  to  speak  accord- 
ing to  the  truth,  would  willingly  have 


60 


THE   WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAX. 


sacrificed  your  husband's  appointment 
and  all  the  happiness  he  seems  to  enjoy 
from  it." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  proud  and 
noble  expression.  Then  she  turned  and 
left  him. 


The  next  day  at  noon  Count  Uno 
Kerner  was  announced.  He  bade  Ingrid 
say  that  he  had  something  important  to 
communicate  to  her  mistress. 

Cold  and  with  her  head  carried  high, 
Ellen  went  to  meet  him.  He  stood  by 
the  mantel-piece  and  supported  himself 
against  it. 

"Count  Kerner  has  desired  to  speak 
to  me,"  said  Ellen,  as  she  took  a  chair 
and  with  her  hand  invited  him  to  be 
seated;  but  he  made  a  slight  bow  and 
remained  standing. 

"  I  could  not  resist  the  emotion  of  my 
heart  which  drew  me  here  to  apologize 
for  an  offence.  I  would  rather  expose  my- 
self to  your  anger,  than  know  that  I  had  a 
fault  to  deprecate  and  did  not  do  it. 
Ellen,  forgive  the  inconsiderate  words 
which  passed  my  lips  last  evening." 

"  I  have  been  too  deeply  wounded  to 
forgive  and  forget  so  easily." 

"  Could  you  not  forgive  words  uttered 
under  the  influence  of  wild  and  confused 
feelings  1  Should  you  not  be  able  to  for- 
get an  injustice  committed  by  a  friend  1 " 

11  Perhaps  an  injustice,  but  not  an 
affront.  Had  you  entertained  friendship 
for  me,  it  would  have  been  impossible 
for  you  to  lower  me  in  your  esteem,  to 
give  room  to  so  degrading  a  suspicion  as 
that  I  could  be  a  faithless  wife.  What 
has  entitled  you  to  believe  such  a  thing 
of  me  1  In  the  same  moment  that  you 
thought  of  me  in  this  way,  you  withdrew 
the  respect  which  I  know  I  deserve,  and 
this  I  cannot  forget." 

"  Ellen,  forbear,  I  beg  of  you  !  Do 
not  force  me  to  abase  myself  before  you 
by  declaring  the  feelings  that  govern  me. 
0,  believe  that  I  am  severely  enough 


punished  by  the  contempt  which  I  feel 
for  myself !  Be  magnanimous.  Be  con- 
vinced that  I  shall  remember  your  clem- 
ency with  deep  gratitude  and  respect." 
He  stood  there  so  penitent  and  looked  at 
her  with  an  expression  full  of  pain.  She 
could  not  refrain  from  giving  him  her 
hand,  as  she  said  with  a  grieved  smile,  — 

"  I  will  try  to  forget  what  has  hap- 
pened, the  remembrance  of  it  makes  me 
too  unhappy."  She  bent  down  and  some 
tears  fell  on  his  hand.  At  the  sight  of 
this  grief  Uno's  features  contorted,  and 
if  Ellen  had  then  seen  his  face  she  would 
have  found  the  solution  of  the  enigma  of 
his  behavior.  Uno  pressed  her  hand  in 
silence  and  a  pause  ensued.  Finally  she 
raised  her  head  and  resumed :  "It  is 
always  the  privilege  of  our  friends  to  be 
able  to  wound  us  deeply.  But  let  us 
no  longer  speak  of  it ;  friendship  makes 
us  indulgent."  She  uttered  the  last 
word  with  hearty  goodness. 

"  You  promise  me  to  continue  to  be- 
lieve in  my  affection  ?  " 

"  I  have  told  you  that  all  is  forgotten. 
I  never  promise  anything  by  halves.  " 

"  Thanks  !  "  He  kissed  her  hand.  She 
was  almost  as  pale  as  death  when  she 
again  raised  her  head. 


A  period  elapsed  during  which  Uno 
had  regained  his  calm  and  earnestly  cor- 
dial manner. 

Ellen's  health  had  been  delicate  for 
some  weeks.  One  morning  Evert  in- 
formed her  that  she  had  obtained  the 
second  prize  of  the  Swedish  Academy 
for  the  poems  she  presented ;  and  he 
intended  on  account  of  it  to  make  ar- 
rangements for  a  large  ball  on  Ellen's 
birthday,  the  last  he  thought  of  giving 
during  the  winter.  She  made  some 
objections  to  celebrating  her  distinction 
in  so  ostentatious  q,  manner ;  but  this 
only  called  forth  some  snappish  words, 
whereupon  he  left  her.  During  the  weeks 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


61 


which  elapsed  between  this  conversation 
and  the  great  festivity,  she  was  so  weak 
and  indisposed  that  she  was  obliged  to 
keep  her  bed.  The  invitations  were  is- 
sued, and  Evert  thought  with  horror  of 
being  obliged  to  postpone  all  this  glory, 
something  which  he  would  not  submit  to 
for  any  price  in  the  world.  He  had  in- 
tended to  make  this  affair  the  most 
brilliant  of  the  season,  and  lulled  himself 
with  sweet  dreams  of  the  attention  he 
would  attract  with  it,  and  now  came 
Ellen's  illness,  threatening  to  put  an  end 
to  the  whole  thing.  But  the  physician 
said  that  it  was  only  a  slight  cold  which 
had  settled  on  her  lungs.  Well  then, 
with  a  little  exertion  on  her  part  she 
ought  to  be  able  to  subdue  her  indispo- 
sition. He  went  to  his  wife  two  days 
before  the  ball  to  make  this  clear  to  her. 

"  How  do  you  feel,  Ellen  I "  asked  he, 
as  he  arranged  his  hair  before  the  glass. 

"  I  really  think  that  I  feel  better  to- 
day." 

"  That  rejoices  me  inexpressibly,  my 
dear.  Would  you  not  like  to  try  to  dress 
yourself  and  lie  on  the  sofa  1 " 

"  I  fear  that  I  am  too  weak." 

"If  you  continue  to  lie  in  bed,  you 
will  lose  all  your  strength." 

"  I  will  do  as  you  wish,  dear  Evert, 
but  it  might  be  best  for  you  to  recall  the 
invitations  for  Friday." 

"  My  own  Ellen,  I  should  be  in  despair 
if  I  were  compelled  to  do  that.  If  you 
will  put  a  little  constraint  on  your  im- 
agination, you  will  then  see  that  you 
can  overcome  your  indisposition  easily 
enough.  Try  for  my  sake  ! "  He  kissed 
her  hand. 

Ellen  allowed  them  to  dress  her,  but 
was  so  weak  that  she  was  immediately 
obliged  to  lie  down  on  a  sofa.  She  repre- 
sented to  him  that  she  should  in  all 
probability  be  unable  to  play  the  part  of 
hostess,  but  he  would  not  hear  of  this 
contingency.  The  day  of  the  ball  ar- 
rived ;  Ellen  had  sat  up  the  day  before, 
but  felt  so  enfeebled,  that  she  declared 


on  the  great  day  that  she  did  not  think 
she  could  receive  all  these  guests  and  be 
awake  half  the  night. 

"  You  imagine  that  you  are  so  weak 
only  because  you  constantly  think  of  it," 
said  Evert,  and  compelled  her  to  stand 
up  and  take  a  turn  around  the  room. 
"  You  see,  Ellen,  you  walk  quite  steadily. 
If  you  now  rest  this  forenoon,  drink  a 
glass  of  wine  at  dinner,  and  dress  your- 
self somewhat  late,  you  will  see  that  all 
goes  well." 

"  The  physician  has  expressly  forbidden 
me  to  taste  wine,"  replied  Ellen,  and  held 
her  hand  to  her  aching  head. 

"  Physicians  are  pedants.  You  will 
never  regret  your  compliance,  if  you  only 
obey  me.  It  is  true  that  you  are  pale, 
but  that  can  be  easily  remedied.  I  have 
some  remarkably  fine  rouge  which  I  will 
give  Ingrid." 

"  Shall  I  use  rouge  1 "  exclaimed  Ellen, 
and  looked  at  her  husband.  "  Never  ! " 

"  Well,  well,  Ellen,  do  not  begin  your 
childishness  again.  There  is  no  woman 
of  the  world  who  does  not  occasionally 
employ  this  innocent  means  for  the  sake 
of  looking  well ;  but  I  must  always  have 
a  battle  with  you  to  get  you  to  do  what 
is  wise  and  sensible.  You  never  do  what 
I  desire,  without  my  first  having  to  go 
through  a  hard  struggle.  You  seem  to 
think  more  of  having  people  say  that  you 
look  suffering,  that  you  are  an  unhappy 
wife.  Probably  it  is  your  desire  to  rep- 
resent me  as  a  despot." 

Ellen  kept  science.  At  dinner-time 
Evert  came  in  himself  with  a  large  glass 
of  wine  and  a  cup  of  beef  tea.  She  took 
both  with  great  effort.  The  wine  in- 
creased the  fever  very  considerably,  and 
made  the  use  of  rouge  entirely  superfluous. 
Evert  bustled  in  and  out  while  she  was 
dressing,  and  saw  that  she  was  attired 
according  to  his  taste.  When  she  was 
dressed  and  was  to  go  into  the  saloon, 
she  fancied  that  the  floor  swam,  and  that 
the  walls  would  fall  over  her ;  but  with 
the  aid  of  smelling-salts  she  overcame 


02 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


this  dizziness,  and,  leaning  on  Evcrt's 
arm  and  summoning  the  whole  strength 
of  her  will,  she  went  to  receive  her  com- 
pany. The  guests  began  to  arrive.  Ellen 
had  a  friendly  smile  for  all,  but  every 
one  wondered  at  the  glassy  look  in  her 
eyes  and  the  unsteadiness  of  her  motions. 

"  How  are  you,  Ellen  ? "  asked  Uno  in 
a  whisper  as  he  saluted  her,  almost  fright- 
ened at  her  feverish  look. 

"Only  a  little  indisposed,"  answered 
Ellen. 

Most  of  the  guests  had  come ;  they 

were  only  waiting  for  Excellency  D , 

•who,  at  the  Assessor's  request,  was  to  pre- 
sent the  prize  of  the  Academy  to  Ellen. 
At  last  he  came.  With  the  last  effort  of 
her  strength  Ellen  rose  to  go  to  meet 
him.  She  had  scarcely  gone  half-way 
across  the  floor,  when  it  seemed  to  her 
that  the  whole  room  was  a  sea  of  fire, 
that  the  floor  opened  and  she  was 
plunged  into  a  burning  abyss ;  she  put 
her  hands  to  her  head,  uttered  a  cry  of 
anguish,  and  fell  senseless  to  the  floor, 
but  was  instantly  lifted  up  by  a  pair  of 
strong  arms  and  carried  out  of  the  saloon 
into  a  cabinet,  where  Emy  followed  her. 
It  was  Uno  who  had  followed  all  her 
movements  with  apprehension,  and  has- 
tened foward  'When  he  saw  her  reel.  He 
could  not  reach  her  soon  enough,  however, 
to  hinder  her  from  falling. 

When  he  had  laid  her  on  the  sofa,  he 
hastened  out  for  a  physician. 

The  company  surrounded  the  despair- 
ing Evert,  who  in  the  outburst  of  his 
grief  exclaimed,  — 

"I  told  her  that  it  would  be  so;  I 
wished  to  recall  the  invitations,  but  she 
was  so  stubborn.  Ah  !  why  does  she 
never  follow  my  advice  ! "  Then  he 
rushed  into  Ellen,  while  all  pitied  him 
and  blamed  her. 


There   is  no  one   who  knows  so  well 
Low   to  turn  all  things   to   his  advan- 


tage as  a  vain  person.  Sorrow  itself 
becomes  a  means  through  which  such  an 
individual  tries  to  appear  in  an  inter- 
esting light  and  excite  sympathy  or  ad- 
miration, according  to  the  need  of  the 
moment. 

Evert,  with  his  desire  to  shine,  had  not 
been  able  to  relinquish  the  triumph  of 

seeing  Excellency  D present  his  wife 

the  prize  which  the  Swedish  Academy 
had  conferred  upon  her,  before  a  large 
assemblage.  To  postpone  this  brilliant 
occasion  and  renounce  the  effect  which 
it  would  produce,  and  this  only  on  ac- 
count of  an  indisposition,  he  did  not  pos- 
sess the  strength.  But  now,  since  the 
result  had  shown  that  Ellen  was  sicker 
than  he  believed,  he  hastened  to  draw  all 
possible  benefit  from  the  sad  occurrence 
for  his  all-absorbing  vanity.  It  was  con- 
sequently necessary  to  immediately  rep- 
resent himself  as  the  one  who  had  wished 
to  restrain  Ellen  from  receiving  company 
when  she  was  so  ill.  Although  he  felt  a 
certain  degree  of  compunction  and  real 
distress  when  Ellen  fainted,  his  feelings 
were  not  so  deep  as  to  be  able  to  silence 
the  voice  of  his  vanity,  or  the  thought 
of  how  it  looked  to  others.  He  immedi- 
ately perceived  the  necessity  of  repre- 
senting himself  as  the  innocent  party,  as 
the  sufferer,  and  Ellen  as  foolish  and  in- 
considerate. The  wTorld  must  regard  him 
as  the  ideal  of  a  married  man,  who  lived 
only  for  his  Avife  and  complied  with  all 
her  whims.  While  he  was  anxoius  that 
the  world  should  know  that  Ellen  was  a 
gifted  and  distinguished  personage,  who 
had  chosen  him  from  love,  it  was  at  the 
same  time  a  need  for  his  soul,  thirsting 
for  all  manner  of  applause,  that  people 
should  regard  him  as  the  tenderest  of 
husbands.  The  aim  of  his  life  was  to 
excite  commendation  and  praise  in  the 
little  as  well  as  in  the  great. 

When  he  drove  through  the  streets  of 
Stockholm  with  his  elegant  equipage, 
and  people  turned  round  to  admire  his 
horses,  his  heart  swelled  with  joy.  When 


THE  WIJE  OF  A  VAEM  MAN. 


63 


people,  the  day  after  a  ball  or  a  dinner 
party,  gathered  about  him  to  pour  out 
their  praises  over  hia  good  taste,  his 
wealth  and  prosperity,  he  was  as  pleased 
as  if  he  had  distinguished  himself  by 
some  great  and  noble  deed ;  in  a  word, 
he  wished  in  all  things  to  attract  atten- 
tion, and  to  be  courted  and  flattered. 
For  the  attainment  of  this  object  he 
squandered  his  fortune.  To  gain  a  pro- 
motion, he  stooped  to  acts  which  neither 
honor  nor  conscience  could  approve.  For 
an  order  he  would  have  sacrificed  any- 
thing, even  his  convictions,  if  a  vain  per- 
son can  be  said  to  have  any  convictions. 

The  day  after  the  ball  Ellen  lay  very 
ill.  The  cold,  trifling  in  the  beginning, 
had,  through  the  exertion  of  leaving  her 
bed,  prematurely  taken  the  character  of 
a  violent  inflammation  of  the  lungs.  In 
the  morning  the  street  before  their  res- 
idence was  covered  with  straw,  a  measure 
which  Evert's  vanity  rather  than  his  con- 
sideration for  the  sufferer  had  induced 
him  to  take  ;  for  the  sick-room  was  in  the 
back  of  the  house,  so  that  the  sound  of 
vehicles  could  not  trouble  the  patient  very 
much.  In  the  evening  people  read  in 
the  papers  "  that  the  talented  young 
poetess,  Fru  Ochard,  who  had  been 
awarded  the  prize  by  the  Swedish  Acad- 
emy, was  dangerously  ill." 

Evert  had  in  secret  managed  to  have 
this  announcement  made.  When  one  has 
a  fortune,  keeps  a  large  house,  and  lives 
among  the  upper-tendom,  he  never  lacks 
friends  who  are  ready  with  drums  and 
trumpets  to  proclaim  his  success  or  bewail 
his  misfortunes,  provided  that  these  mis- 
fortunes do  not  bear  the  name  of  "  finan- 
cial ruin  "  ;  for  then  these  friends  of  the 
day  become  mute  and  speedily  withdraw. 

In  the  vestibule  sat  Evert's  servant, 
with  a  slip  of  paper  on  which  he  took 
down  the  names  of  all  who  sent  to  in- 
quire after  Ellen's  health.  Evert  him- 
self could  not  attend  court,  but  he  was 
the  very  incarnation  of  despair.  We 
should  swerve  from  the  truth  if  we  as- 


serted that  the  sorrow  he  showed  was 
entirely  feigned ;  but  he  certainly  man- 
ifested a  greater  degree  of  it  than  his 
heart  contained.  He  spent  the  tune 
contemplating  his  image  in  the  glass, 
arranging  his  hair  in  a  certain  melan- 
choly disorder,  trying  to  give  his  face  as 
despondent  an  expression  as  possible.  May 
no  one  consider  our  young  Assessor  heart- 
less on  this  account :  he  was  really  troub- 
led, and  would  by  no  means  have  lost 
Ellen ;  but  no  sorrow,  no  joy,  no  feeling 
in  his  breast,  was  able  to  overrule  his 
vanity. 

While  he  wandered  restlessly  back 
and  forth  through  the  rooms,  sighed, 
viewed  himself  in  the  glass,  and  was 
really  quite  as  uneasy  as  he  looked, 
two  persons  sat  by  Ellen's  bedside  and 
regarded  her  burning  face,  listening 
with  the  keenest  anxiety  to  her  moans. 
These  two  were  Countess  Emy  and  her 
daughter  Ebba.  From  time  to  time 
Evert  came  in,  went  to  the  sick-bed, 
sighed,  and  looked  at  the  Countess  with 
a  despairing  expression.  At  noon  the 
two  physicians  who  had  been  summoned 
called  for  the  third  time.  Evert  pressed 
their  hands,  and  stammered  out  a  ques- 
tion full  of  anxiety.  When  they  went 

away,  Dr.  M ,  who  was  then-  family 

physician,  said,  — 

"  The  Assessor  never  ought  to  have 
allowed  her  Grace  to  give  that  ball,  as 
sick  as  she  was.  Now  God  alone  knows 
what  the  end  will  be." 

Late  in  the  evening,  when  Ingrid  went 
into  her  chamber,  she  stopped,  frightened, 
and  almost  uttered  a  scream,  for  a  man 
was  sitting  on  the  sofa ;  but  when  he  at 
the  same  instant  rose  and  took  a  step 
towards  her,  she  recognized  Count  Uno. 
"  How  is  your  mistress,  Ingrid  1 "  asked 
he,  regarding  Ingrid's  tear-stained  face 
with  a  gloomy  look.  He  was  so  unnat- 
urally pale  and  looked  so  haggard,  that 
he  seemed  to  Ingrid  more  like  a  ghost 
than  a  human  being. 

"She   is  very  ill,   Herr  Count,"   an- 


64 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


swcred  Ingrid,  weeping.      He  seized  her 
arm  and  asked  eagerly,  — 

"  What  did  the  physicians  say  this 
evening  1 " 

11  They  gave  but  little  hope." 

He  put  his  hand  over  his  brow  and 
made  some  hasty  turns  around  the 
room ;  then  he  threw  himself  down  on 
Ingrid's  sofa. 

"  Who  is  with  her  now  ? " 

"  Countess  Rubens.  The  young  lady 
has  gone  home,  but  the  Countess  will 
remain  here  to-night." 

Uno  nodded  to  Ingrid  and  left. 

The  days  went  by,  under  the  greatest 
anxiety  for  Ellen's  friends.  Ingrid  did 
not  leave  her  couch  ;  she  was  with  her 
night  and  day,  and  when  the  Countess 
•wished  her  to  take  some  rest,  her  an- 
swer was,  — 

"  If  she  dies,  then  I  am  willing  to  die 
with  her." 

Every  evening  Uno  presented  himself 
in  Ingrid's  chamber,  always  as  pale  and 
with  every  sign  of  deep  sorrow. 

A  fortnight,  how  quickly  it  passes 
when  we  are  in  the  midst  of  health  and 
joy,  how  endless  does  it  seem  when  we 
watch  by  the  sick-bed  of  one  we  love, 
and  fear  every  moment  that  the  beloved 
being  will  leave  us  !  Emy,  Ebba,  and 
Ingrid  realized  this  during  the  time  in 
which  Ellen  hovered  between  life  and 
death.  This  was  a  painful  period  for 
Evert  also,  but  he  had  so  many  ways  of 
diverting  his  mind,  between  calculating 
the  effect  of  his  actions,  thinking  of  what 
people  would  say,  and  exciting  sympathy 
for  himself,  that  the  time  to  him  was 
less  long. 

At  the  expiration  of  the  fortnight,  a 
slight  change  for  the  better  had  occurred. 
Ellen  slept  more  calmly  than  usual  that 
evening,  and  Ingrid  availed  herself  of  the 
opportunity  to  steal  down  to  her  room. 

"  How  is  she  ?  "  There  was  the  usual 
question  which  met  her  every  evening 
from  the  same  trembling  and  anxious 
voice. 


"  Somewhat  better." 

"  Better  !  "  exclaimed  Uno,  starting 
up. 

"Yes,  she  sleeps,  and  the  fever  has 
considerably  diminished  ;  besides,  she 
breathes  easier,  and  the  doctors  were 
more  hopeful  this  evening  than  ever  be- 
fore." 


One  beautiful  morning  in  the  middle  of 
April,  Baroness  Augusta  called  on  Ellen, 
who  now  lay  dressed  on  a  sofa  in  the 
bedchamber.  She  had  not  yet  obtained 
the  doctor's  permission  to  leave  her 
room,  for  she  was  still  extremly  weak. 
When  Augusta  left  her  she  met  Evert  in 
the  saloon. 

"  Ah,  are  you  at  home  yet  1  I  thought 
that  you  were  at  the  Diet,  which  is  in 
session  to-day,"  said  Augusta. 

"Not  to-day,  it  meets  to-morrow.  I 
should  have  been  absent  in  any  case, 
because  I  desired  to  see  you."  He  seized 
Augusta's  hand.  "  Thanks  for  the  sympa- 
thy you  have  shown  me  during  Ellen's 
severe  illness.  Your  friendship  has  been 
the  deepest  source  of  comfort.  I  think 
that  I  have  found  a  trace  of  the  former 
affection  in  it.  Am  I  right  ? "  Evert 
looked  at  her  with  a  tender  expression, 
and  kissed  her  hand  with  warmth. 

The  Baroness  drew  away  her  hand, 
though  neither  hastily  nor  slowly,  but 
with  a  completely  indifferent  motion. 
She  seated  herself  in  an  easy-chair  and 
said  with  the  calmest  voice  in  the 
world,  — 

"  You  are  extremely  mistaken,  my  dear 
sir.  My  sympathy  has  not  in  the  least 
been  devoted  to  you,  but  entirely  to 
Ellen,  whom  I  love  with  all  my  heart." 

"You  are  cruel,  Augusta.  Do  you 
mean  to  say  by  these  words  that  I  am  to 
you  an  indifferent  person  1  But  why  de- 
ceive us  both  with  this  language  1  Or 
do  you  not  think  that  I  can  judge  of 
your  sentiments  by  those  of  my  own 
heart  1  I  know  how  to  interpret  the 


THE   WIFE   OF  A  VAIN"  MAN. 


65 


feelings  you  entertain  for  Ellen  better 
than  you  do  yourself." 

"  Let  me  hear." 

"Augusta,"  he  sat  down  beside  her 
and  continued  in  a  lowered  but  animated 
voice,  "  you  know  as  well  as  I,  that  I 
have  never  ceased  to  love  you,  that  I  yet 
to  this  hour  feel  the  same  attachment  to 
you  as  before  we  were  compelled  to  sep- 
arate. Do  not  turn  from  me  with  pride, 
for  I  have  read  your  heart  and  found 
that  the  friendship  which  you  show  Ellen 
is  only  a  veil  thrown  over  the  love  which 
you  still  preserve  for  me.  0,  how  I 
have  thanked  you  for  it  in  my  heart  ! 
How  I  adore  you  !  "  Evert  bent  a  knee 
to  Augusta.  "  0,  let  me  through  a  glance, 
a  word,  a  single  gesture,  receive  a  con- 
firmation of  what  I  believe  myself  to 
have  guessed  ! " 

"  Stand  up,  sir,  and  recollect  that  two 
rooms  from  here  lies  the  wife  whom  you 
succeeded  in  decoying  with  your  pretend- 
ed love.  Your  words  would  have  offended 
me  if  any  other  than  you  had  uttered 
them.  My  answer  to  what  you  have  be- 
lieved or  guessed  is  :  you  are  a  conceited 
fool.  Do  not  show  yourself  so  wounded 
by  my  words,  but  let  us  for  once  rightly 
understand  each  other  and  speak  calmly 
of  the  matter.  Look  at  me  !  Do  I  look 
as  if  I  was  tormented  by  an  unhappy 
love  1  Am  I  sad,  hypochondriac,  pale  ] 
Not  at  all.  I  am  cheerful,  enjoy  life,  and 
feel  very  happy." 

"  Probably  also  in  love  with  the  hus- 
band whom  you  have  chosen,"  observed 
Evert  ironically. 

"  Your  words  are  highly  inappropriate, 
sir.  I  do  not  love  my  husband ;  but  I  am 
grateful  to  him  ;  and  however  weak  and 
frivolous  I  may  be,  I  yet  feel  respect  for 
myself  and  for  the  name  he  gave  me. 
I  shall  consequently  never  lower  myself 
so  far  as  to  play  so  miserable  a  part  as 
that  of  opening  a  love  intrigue  with  my 
friend's  husband." 

"  Ah  !  inadam,  you  are  really  cruel," 
said  Evert. 


"  Cruel  1  Listen  :  you  love  me  as 
little  as  I  you ;  but  you  know  that  I 
belong  to  those  who  are  in  the  mode,  and 
you  would  have  no  objection  to  being  con- 
sidered the  one  whom  I  honored  with  my 
love.  It  would  natter  your  vanity  to  pass 
for  the  object  which  occupied  the  thoughts 
and  feelings  of  the  rich  and  courted  Bar- 
oness Ernstein,  so  that  it  might  be  as- 
serted aloud  that  my  heart  had  yielded 
to  your  irresistible  attractions.  That 
would  be  a  triumph  of  which  you  could 
boast." 

"  And  from  the  fear  of  this  you  deny 
that  you  feel  sympathy  for  me  1 " 

"  Not  from  fear,  but  from  sincerity. 
When  you  brought  out  in  the  world  a 
young,  beautiful,  and  richly  endowed  wife, 
I  sought  her  acquaintance,  because  I,  who 
once  loved  you,  and  now,  since  the  illusion 
had  fled,  saw  through  your  character,  de- 
sired to  see  what  sort  of  a  woman  had 
bound  her  fate  to  yours.  Has  she  a 
heart,  then  she  will  become  unhappy  by 
the  side  of  a  man  whose  vanity  smothers 
all  other  feelings,  thought  I.  Well,  sir  : 
who  do  you  suppose  can  know  Ellen 
without  loving  her]  No  one  who  has 
mind  or  feeling  for  the  noble  and  the 
good." 

The  Baroness  rose  and  extended  her 
hand  to  him  as  she  added  :  "  I  am  sin- 
cerely your  wife's  friend,  but  nothing  to 
you." 

Quite  confounded  by  the  reprimand 
which  he  had  received,  Evert  kissed  the 
proffered  hand  ;  but  when  she  was  gone, 
he  straightened  himself  to  his  full  height 
and  muttered,  — 

"You  shall  some  time  have  to  pay  me 
for  this  humiliation." 

Augusta  had  mortally  wounded  his 
vanity  ;  she  had  dared  to  find  his  wife 
more  worthy  affection  and  sympathy  than 
her  husband ;  and,  worst  of  all,,  she  had 
let  him  understand  that  she  knew  his 
main  weakness.  The  vain  person  cannot 
bear  to  have  other*  perceive  that  he  is 
led  by  this  passion,  but  would  like  to 


CG 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


stamp  on  his  actions  and  character  the 
impression  of  something  noble  and  ele- 
vated. 


One  afternoon,  at  the  end  of  April,  the 
Rubens,  Kerners,  Uno,  and  Baroness  Ern- 
stein  presented  themselves  at  Ochard's 
to  congratulate  Ellen  upon  her  restored 
health.  They  were  to  have  a  little  jubi- 
lee, when  she  left  her  room  for  the  first 
time.  This  was  an  arrangement  of  Evert 's, 
which  was  intended  to  be  a  joyful  sur- 
prise to  Ellen,  and  he  had  limited  him- 
self to  inviting  those  who  were  espe- 
cially attached  to  her.  He  had  invited 
Uno  from  an  entirely  personal  interest. 

When  all  had  arrived,  Evert  went  in  to 
Ellen,  who  was  reclining  in  an  easy-chair 
in  a  little  cabinet  adjoining  the  bed- 
-chamber. Ingrid  sat  on  a  footstool  and 
iTead  aloud  to  Ellen,  who  was  in  complete 
ignorance  of  the  intended  family  party. 

•"  Would  you  not  like  to  go  out  in  the 
saloon,  Elleu  dear1?  The  air  there  is 
fresher,  ;and  as  the  sun  comes  in  it  is 
also  more  cheerful,"  said  Evert,  taking 
her  little  emaciated  hand.  There  was 
something  so  unusual  in  his  manner,  and 
also  in  the  circumstance  of  his  being  at 
home,  as  he  had  been  away  every  after- 
noon since  Ellen  began  to  recover,  that 
she  felt  touched  by  it, 

"With  pleasure,  my  dear."  She  rose, 
took  his  arm  with  a  smile,  saying  : 
"  I  will  go  with  you  wherever  you 
choose." 

Evert  pressed  a  kiss  on  her  pale  brow, 
and  they  went  arm  in  arm  out  into  the 
saloon,  where  they  were  received  with 
the  warmest  congratulations.  It  was  a 
scene  to  Evert's  taste;  for  there  was 
something  full  of  effect  in  his  entering 
the  saloon  with  the  pale  Ellen  on  his 
arm.  He  had  the  pleasure  of  judging 
of  the  whole  effect  of  it  by  a  glance  in 
the  mirror.  Neither  could  it  be  denied 
that  he  looked  particularly  well  by  the 
side  of  Ellen,  and  one  could  not  avoid 


admitting,  in  spite  of  Ellen's  paleness,  that 
they  were  a  handsome  couple. 

To  celebrate  his  wife's  recovery  in  love 
and  quiet,  alone  by  her  side,  was  some- 
thing for  which  Evert  had  no  desire. 
Now,  although  he  did  not  dare  to  invite 
a  large  number  of  guests  from  fear  of 
Countess  Rubens,  he  yet  had  the  satis- 
faction of  showing  his  love  and  his  noble 
efforts  to  afford  Ellen  a  pleasant  surprise 
to  a  few  persons  at  least. 

When  they  had  from  all  sides  sur- 
rounded Ellen  and  congratulated  her 
upon  her  recovery  to  health,  Uno,  who 
in  the  general  enthusiasm  had  kept  at  a 
distance,  came  to  her.  Ellen  gave  him 
her  hand  with  a  smile. 

"  God  be  praised,"  said  he  with  fervor, 
"  that  I  am  allowed  to  see  you  well  once 
more  ! "  His  voice  trembled  slightly, 
and  the  look  which  rested  on  Ellen  had 
such  a  warm  and  unspeakably  tender 
expression  that  it  quite  moved  her. 

"  We  are  here  to  afford  you  a  pleasant 
evening ;  tell  us,  Ellen,  what  you  would 
like,"  said  Baroness  Augusta. 

"  A  little  music,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Shall  I  sing  1 "  asked  the  Baroness. 

Ellen's  glance  flew  over  to  Uno,  and 
as  if  he  had  understood  the  silent  wish 
which  was  expressed  in  it,  he  said,  — 

"Perhaps  Ellen  would  like  to  hear 
some  of  the  Spanish  people's  songs  ]  " 

"  0  yes  ! "  exclaimed  she.  The  next 
moment  Uno  sang.  Where  was  Ellen 
during  the  singing1?  Away,  far  away 
from  the  world  and  the  people  that  sur- 
rounded her.  She  was  brought  back  to 
the  first  wonderful  dreams  of  her  youth, 
to  the  strange  longings  which  have  nei- 
ther form  nor  name.  When  the  song 
ceased,  Uno  reaped  general  applause,  as 
on  former  occasions.  Ellen  reached  him 
both  hands  and  said  only,  "  Thanks  ! " 

In  the  evening  when  they  had  all 
left,  Ellen  and'  her  husband  remained 
sitting  awhile  in  the  saloon. 

"  Do  you  know,  Ellen,  that  Uno's 
brother-in-law  has  become  Minister  and 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


67 


seems  to  stand  very  well  in  high  places'?" 
began  Evert. 

*•  "  The  appointment  has  then  been  made 
during  my  illness." 

"  Precisely.  I  would  therefore  like  to 
see  you  treat  Uno  with  especial  polite- 
ness. He  has  great  influence  over  his 
brother-in-law,  and  this  influence  I  desire 
to  use  to  my  advantage.  He  is  besides 
nearly  related  to  all  persons  now  influ- 
ential, and  just  the  man  from  whom 
I  can  derive  benefit.  I  hope  that  you 
have  so  much  interest  for  your  husband, 
that  you  will,  for  the  promotion  of  his 
success,  show  those  persons  respect  who 
can  be  of  use  to  him." 

"  I  have-  always  done  that,  if  these 
persons  deserved  my  respect." 

"  Influential  persons  always  deserve 
our  respect,  —  mark  that.  Now  I  have 
remarked  that  Uno  has  taken  a  singular 
affection  for  you,  especially  since  you  re- 
ceived the  prize  for  that  last  poem.  In 
short,  I  with  my  sharp-sightedness  have 
observed  that  you  exercise  influence  over 
him,  and  this  you  ought  to  use  to  my 
advantage." 

"  But,  my  dear  Evert,  why  are  all 
these  roundabout  ways  necessary  1  Your 
own  merit  is  certainly  the  surest  and 
best  means  of  advancement.  All  other 
distinction  than  that  which  is  based  on 
your  capacity  is  really  not  worth  striv- 
ing for." 

"  Listen,  Ellen ;  will  you  be  so  good 
once  for  all  as  to  do  what  I  ask  you  with- 
out reasoning  upon  it  1  You  have,  it  is 
true,  a  very  remarkable  ability  to  write 
verses ;  but,  my  dear,  you  are  utterly 
lacking  in  judgment  when  it  is  a  ques- 
tion of  how  one  ought  to  act  in  real  life. 
Show  me  therefore  the  politeness  of  be- 
lieving my  judgment  infallible  in  such 
matters,  and  conform  yourself  to  what  I 
say  without  reflecting  upon  it.  Now  I 
desire  that  you  may  be  particularly  po- 
lite and  attentive  to  Count  Uno,  and  all 
further  words  on  this  subject  are  unne- 
cessary." 


Ellen  made  no  reply,  and  Evert  re- 
sumed after  a  short  pause,  — 

"  As  you,  according  to  the  doctor's 
assertion,  ought  to  lead  a  more  quiet  life 
as  long  as  you  are  so  weak,  you  have  an 
opportunity  every  evening  to  receive 
those  who  call  upon  you,  and  I  hope 
that  you  will  not  oppose  this,  as  the  vis- 
its will  necessarily  be  short  and  cannot 
very  well  fatigue  you.  Or  have  you 
again  some  objection  to  make  ]  " 

"  No,  Evert/,1  have  not ;  but  why  talk 
to  me  in  this  short,  cold  tone  ?  " 

"  Is  my  tone  short  and  cold  ?  You  are 
truly  very  impatient ;  if  at  any  time  I 
wish  to  talk  over  serious  matters,  then 
you  say  that  my  tone  is  cold.  You  have 
a  very  unhappy  disposition  which  can 
never  be  anything  but  a  torment  to  your 
husband,  for  I  can  never  consult  with 
you  or  express  my  wishes  without  being 
misunderstood  and  hearing  sharp  words." 
He  rose  and  was  going  to  leave  the  room. 

"Evert,"  exclaimed  Ellen,  reaching  him 
her  hand,  "  do  not  be  displeased  with  me 
and  have  indulgence  with  my  fault.  God 
is  my  witness  that  I  am  glad  to  comply 
with  your  wishes  in  everything  which 
does  not  conflict  with  my  convictions." 

"I  hope  I  am  not  one  to  overcome 
your  convictions  or  make  you  deviate 
from  what  is  right  1 " 

"  Evert,  be  a  little  kinder,"  said  she. 

"Why,  my  dear,  I  am  kind  enough," 
answered  he  in  a  voice  between  friendly 
and  cross,  "  although  I  cannot  bear  en- 
dearments all  the  time.  My  dear,  a 
man  has  larger  and  weightier  interests 
in  life  than  to  sit  and  coo  by  his  wife's 
side.  Love  is  to  him  an  agreeable  pas- 
time for  leisure  moments,  when  he  has 
nothing  else  to  think  of;  but  never 
ought  a  wife  to  demand  that  he  shall 
constantly  fondle  her." 


How  little  Evert  was  suited  to  Ellen 
can  be   easily  inferred  from  the  above- 


68 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


described  conversation,  which  showed 
plainly  how  foreign  the  world  of  the 
home  and  the  heart  was  to  him.  And 
yet  it  was  all  to  her.  She  resembled 
one  of  those  tropical  plants  which  with- 
er if  removed  to  a  cold  climate.  She 
needed  love  and  tenderness,  and  when 
she  missed  these  feelings  in  her  husband, 
she  fell  into  a  melancholy  state  and 
sought  in  imagination  a  recompense  for 
•what  reality  had  denied  her. 

Uno  now  went  to  Ochard's  oftener 
than  usual.  His  manner  towards  Ellen 
breathed  so  much  friendship  and  un- 
feigned affection,  that  it  inevitably  made 
an  impression  on  her,  neglected  as  she 
was  by  her  husband.  Seldom  or  never 
had  Evert  a  word  of  love  for  her  when 
they  were  alone ;  but  when  others  were 
present  he  was  extremely  amiable  and 
attentive. 

Uno's  society  became  a  need  to  her, 
without  her  seeing  in  this  need  or  the 
feeling  that  bound  her  to  him  anything 
but  friendship.  It  never  entered  her 
mind  that  any  danger  to  her  peace  might 
lie  concealed  in  this  friendship.  She 
enjoyed  it  as  a  flower  destined  for  the 
warm  sunshine,  but,  placed  in  the  shade, 
enjoys  the  few  stray  beams  which  some- 
times reach  it. 

One  evening  when  Uno  called  he  found 
Ellen  entirely  alone. 

"  Is  Evert  away  *? "  asked  he. 

"Yes,  he  is  at  President  S***'s,"  an- 
swered she. 

"  Tell  me  one  thing  frankly,  Ellen, 
but  with  perfect  sincerity,"  said  Uno. 

"  If  I  can,  then  be  assured  that  I  shall 
answer  frankly." 

"  One  can  always  be  open  when  speak- 
ing to  a  friend  whose  affection  can  be  re- 
lied on,  and  you  can  certainly  not  do 
otherwise  than  trust  in  mine  1 " 

"  Well,  let  me  hear  what  weighs  on 
your  mind,"  said  Ellen  smiling. 

"I  did  not  get  any  answer  as  to 
whether  you  believed  in  my  friendship." 
Uno  regarded  her  with  an  expression  in 


his  black  eyes  which  was  for  some  sec- 
onds so  full  of  passion,  that  she  would 
assuredly  have  answered  the  question 
with  a  no,  if  she  had  looked. up  and  met 
his  glance,  but  her  eyes  were  fastened  on 
her  work. 

"  I  considered  it  unnecessary  to  an- 
swer it,  because  you  know  more  than 
well  that  I  both  believe  and  confide  in 
your  friendship." 

Now  she  looked  up ;  but  he  had 
turned  his  eyes  from  her  to  a  picture,  as 
if  he  feared  that  she  should  discover  the 
feelings  that  were  reflected  in  them. 

"  Thank  you,  Ellen.  After  this  assur- 
ance it  will  be  so  much  the  easier  to 
touch  this  subject.  I  must  begin  with 
a  question  :  does  Evert  desire  to  obtain 
an  order  1 " 

Ellen  blushed  deeply  and  looked  down 
at  her  work.  She  knew  that  this  was 
one  of  the  motives  which  had  induced 
her  husband  to  ask  her  to  be  polite  to 
Uno.  It  seemed  so  repugnant  to  her  to 
answer.  She  could  not  say  no  truthful- 
ly. As  she  remained  silent,  Uno  bent 
down  and  regarded  her  a  moment  as  if 
to  force  her  to  answer ;  but  as  she  still 
made  no  reply,  he  resumed,  — 

"Do  you  find  it  humiliating  to  an- 
swer this  question  in  the  affirmative  1 " 

Ellen  looked  up.  There  was  a  mild 
reproach  in  Uno's  voice  and  a  still  mild- 
er in  his  look. 

"  Yes,  almost,"  she  replied. 

"  And  wherefore  1  Am  I  a  friend  of 
so  little  value  to  you,  that  pride  over- 
rules affection  in  the  most  insignificant 
thing?"  ' 

"Certainly  not,  you  know  full  well 
that  it  is  not  so." 

"  Do  I  ?  No,  Ellen,  no,  I  do  not  know 
it,"  said  he  impulsively  and  seized  her 
hand,  but  dropped  it  immediately,  add- 
ing, "  why  then  not  answer  my  question 
with  a  simple  yes  or  no  ?  " 

"  If  you  had  asked  me  :  Do  you  wish 
to  win  another  prize  for  the  poem  you 
are  now  writing  1  I  would  have  answered 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


69 


yes,  without  embarrassment,  for  then  it 
would  have  concerned  me  personally, 
and  if  I  thereby  placed  myself  in  a 
wrong  light,  it  would  have  been  of  little 
consequence  ;  but  when  it  concerns  my 
husband  — "  She  ceased  and  worked 
diligently.  Uno's  eyes  rested  on  her 
with  a  dark  and  gloomy  expression. 

"  You  are  afraid  of  placing  him  in  a 
doubtful  light  ]  You  thus  love  him 
very  much." 

There  was  something  in  his  tone  which 
made  a  painful  impression  on  Ellen. 
With  a  gentle  earnestness  she  an- 
swered, — 

"And  to  whom  ought  a  wife's  heart 
to  stand  nearer  than  to  her  husband  1 " 

"  You  are  right,  Ellen.  Who  should 
a  married  woman^  love,  if  not  the  mate 
whom  she  has  chosen  from  free  will  1 
But  let  us  return  to  the  point  at  issue." 
He  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow  as  if 
to  drive  away  the  dark  and  bitter  feel- 
ings which  for  a  moment  had  been  re- 
flected on  his  face. 

"  Should  you  desire  Evert  to  be  hon- 
ored with  an  order  1 " 

"  Yes,  I  should  with  all  my  heart." 

"  It  would  make  you  happy  ] " 

"  Yes,  it  would  afford  me  a  real  joy." 

"  And  wherefore  1  Is  it  the  distinction 
which  flatters  your  vanity  1 " 

"Perhaps,"  answered  Ellen,  smiling. 
"  But  to  speak  frankly,  I  think  it  is  also 
the  consciousness  of  having  a  husband 
who,  through  his  eminent  qualities,  de- 
serves to  wear  a  decoration  of  honor." 

"  You  are  thus  ambitious  in  your  hus- 
band's behalf] "  . 

"  Yes,  and  it  is  about  the  only  ambition 
that  is  granted  to  us  married  women." 

"  But  you  have  not  confined  yourself 
solely  to  this  ] " 

"  No,  that  is  true  ;  I  have  been  so  also 
on  my  own  account."  She  leaned  back 
against  the  sofa  and  fastened  her  eyes 
on  a  picture,  as  she  added  with  a  thought- 
ful look,  "  But  for  us  childless  women  it 
can  be  excusable  if  we  abandon  ourselves 


to  some  folly.  How  would  you  have  us 
pass  the  time  1 " 

"  In  doing  good." 

"  True  !  But  still  there  is  a  good  deal 
of  superfluous  time,  which  falls  to  the  lot 
of  the  unoccupied.  Then  do  not  be- 
grudge them  the  compensation  which 
they  might  find  in  the  pouring  out  of 
their  fancy,  or  in  the  dreams  it  creates. 
If  their  poetical  attempts  are  of  no  use, 
they  do  no  harm ;  but  they  are  the  prod- 
uct of  that  surplus  of  feeling  which 
must  find  vent  in  some  way.  It  is  not 
from  vanity  that  they  write,  these  poor 
enthusiasts  without  aim  or  object  for 
their  existence ;  no,  it  is  from  an  indwell- 
ing need,  which  when  it  is  allowed  to 
clothe  itself  in  words  yields  the  soul  a 
peculiar  satisfaction.  What  does  the 
poor  poet  care  at  the  moment  when  ecs- 
tasy lifts  him  above  a  cold  and  desolate 
reality,  whether  the  world  praises  or 
finds  fault  with  these  tones  which  sprang 
from  the  depths  of  his  soul  1  Ambition 
does  not  exist  at  those  times  when  the 
poet  gives  form  to  his  fancy ;  it  comes 
afterwards,  when  the  cold  reason  and 
vanity  sit  down  to  calculate  the  advan- 
tages of  it."  Never  before  had  she  ex- 
pressed herself  so  unreservedly  before 
Uno,  and  without  being  aware  of  it  her- 
self, there  was  much  shadowed  forth  in 
her  words  which  Uno  had  hitherto  only 
guessed. 

"If  you  had  been  a  mother,  would 
you  not  then  have  appeared  as  an  au- 
thoress 1 " 

"  No,  never.  Then  I  should  have  had 
no  time  left  to  dream  away." 

"  Nor  any  time  for  pleasure  either? " 

"  Pleasure  1  My  greatest,  my  only 
real  pleasure  I  would  then  have  found 
in  my  home."  Her  eyes  shone  with  a 
strange  light,  and  an  expression  of  sweet 
and  unutterable  feelings  spread  over  her 
whole  face. 

"  What  an  excellent  mother  would  she 
not  have  been  !  "  thought  Uno,  and  could 
not  turn  his  eyes  away  from  her.  "O 


70 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


fate,  fate !  why  did  I  not  learn  her 
worth  before ! "  He  sighed  and  re- 
sumed, "  But  you  now  in  your  imagina- 
tion see  a  happiness  which  in  reality  you 
would  not  perhaps  have  treasured  so 
highly.  Do  you  think  that  you  would 
have  the  courage  to  renounce  these 
pleasures  which  seem  to  he  such  a 
need  to  you,  for  the  sake  of  your  chil- 
dren 1 " 

"  A  need,  do  you  say  ? "  exclaimed  she 
with  animation  and  turned  her  face  to- 
wards him.  "Ah,  how  little  you  know 
me!" 

"  But  if  they  are  not  a  need,  what  can 
then  force  you  to  waste  your  time  and 
health  in  this  empty  society  life  1 " 

The  word  "  force "  seemed  to  recall 
Ellen  to  herself,  and  to  remind  her  that 
she  ought  to  give  heed  to  what  she  said. 
Her  face,  which  a  few  moments  before 
had  had  that  peculiar  dreamy  and  inno- 
cent expression  which  characterized  her 
first  youth,  now  resumed  its  usual  re- 
served aspect. 

"  Nothing  forces  me  ;  but-  I  follow 
with  the  stream,  from  lack  of  interest  for 
anything  else." 

Uno,  who  had  not  for  an  instant  turned 
his  gaze  from  Ellen's  face,  closely  ob- 
served the  changes  in  it.  He  saw  imme- 
diately that  he  had  brought  the  conver- 
sation upon  a  territory  which  she  would 
never  allow  him  to  enter. 

"You,  Ellen,  with  your  education, 
might  have  interested  yourself  in  some- 
thing else  than  spending  your  days  in 
this  aimless  way." 

"  Let  us  leave  this  subject.  It  seems 
to  me  better  to  be  a  fool  among  fools 
than  to  aspire  to  be  original.  Besides,  I 
have  in  my  poetical  attempts  found  an 
occupation  which  is  fully  in  harmony 
with  my  natural  inclination,  however 
blamable  you  may  find  my  rhyming," 
added  she  smiling. 

"  Now,  I  no  longer  think  it  blamable. 
Ah  !  the  time  is  long  since  past  when  I 
wished  only  to  discover  faults  in  you." 


Baroness  Ernstein  entered  and  inter- 
rupted the  conversation. 

"Where  do  you  intend  to  spend  the 
summer  1 "  asked  she  of  Ellen  after  they 
had  talked  awhile  about  indifferent 
things. 

"  Both  the  Rubens  and  the  Kerners 
have  invited  us  to  spend  the  summer  with 
them ;  but  I  have  not  yet  decided.  It 
will  depend  upon  how  much  leisure 
Evert  has;  he  is  now  very  much  occu- 
pied." 

"  Shall  you  not  stay  at  your  charming 
little  EksholmV'  resumed  the  Baron- 
ess. 

"  It  is  not  yet  in  order,"  answered  El- 
len. "  Besides,  the  physicians  may  order 
me  to  spend  some  weeks  at  a  watering 
place." 


"  I  suppose  you  are  now  so  well,  dear 
Ellen,"  said  Evert,  "  that  we  can  take  a 
drive  to  Djurgarden  on  the  1st  of  May] 
I  thought  that  we  would  then  try  my 
new  carriage.  It  will  certainly  be  one 
of  the  handsomest  turnouts  at  Djurgar- 
den. As  regards  the  summer,  I  have 
decided  to  visit  ***  baths  this  year;  it 
seems  to  be  a  great  place  of  resort  and  I 
desire  that  you  may  be  seen  there. 
Uuo's  brother-in-law  and  family  are  go- 
ing to  be  there  some  weeks.  I  have  al- 
ready written  and  engaged  suitable  rooms 
for  you ;  I  do  not  think  I  shall  spend  all 
my  time  at  the  baths,  for  I  cannot  be  so 
long  away  from  the  Diet.  Are  you  sat- 
isfied with  my  arrangement  1 " 

"Yes,  Evert.  To  be  sure  I  rather 
wished  to  spend  the  summer  at  Eksholm; 
but  as  you  have  already  made  your  ar- 
rangements, I  am  satisfied." 

"  And  in  that  you  do  wisely.  Besides, 
I  will  tell  you  that  Eksholm  is  not  a 
place  where  I  shall  ever  stay.  It  belongs 
to  you,  not  me,  as  included  in  that 
highly  unsatisfactory  settlement  which 
your  mother  made." 

"That    which    is  mine   is    certainly 


THE  WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


71 


yours  also,"  answered  Ellen,  and  offered 
him  her  hand  with  a  gentle  smile. 

"  That  sounds  very  well,  but  has  this 
against  it,  that  it  does  not  exactly  fit 
with  an  arrangement  which  indicates  the 
most  hum'iliating  distrust  of  me." 

"  My  dear  Evert,  when  my  mother 
made  this  arrangement,  I  was  a  child, 
and  you  a  person  whom  she  did  not 
know  and  consequently  could  not  offend 
with  it." 

"  That  holds  for  your  mother,  but  not 
for  you.  Had  you  really  loved  me  and 
possessed  confidence  in  me,  you  would 
have  cancelled  these  conditions." 

"  My  dear  Evert,  if  the  day  ever  comes 
when'you  need  this  sum  which  my  mother 
left  at  my  disposal,  you  can  be  fully  con- 
vinced that  I  will  let  you  have  it.  I 
have  now  used  the  interest  of  it  to  alle- 
viate the  need  of  some  few  ;  but  what  I 
have  done  is  unhappily  so  little  compared 
with  what  I  desire  to  do." 

"  That  is  very  well ;  but  you  carry  out 
your  charity,  as  you  do  everything  else, 
in  the  wrong  way.  You  visit  these  poor 
places,  sit  down  there  and  make  fine 
speeches,  provide  for  a  few  families,  and 
so  forth ;  but  what  advantage  do  you 
derive  from  it  1 " 

"  That  of  having  relieved  trouble  and 
mitigated  wretchedness." 

"  Very  romantic  !  but  if  you  were  not 
governed  by  such  an  overweening  self- 
love,  you  would  have  consulted  with  me, 
and  then  we  should  both  have  had  satis- 
faction from  it.  In  all  the  relations  of 
life  you  ought  to  rely  solely  on  me." 

"  Hereafter  I  shall  advise  with  you." 

"  Good  !  -  I  desire  you  to  give  two  or 
three  hundred  riks  thalers  to  the  Treas- 
urer, to  be  distributed  among  the  poor 
of  the  city  on  the  birthday  which  is  soon 
to  occur  in  the  royal  family.  This,  my 
dear,  is  a  noble  way  of  doing  good ;  for 
in  the  first  place  it  shows  your  respect 
and  regard  for  the  royal  family,  and  next 
you  help  the  needy  with  it.  There  is 
some  reason  in  such  an  act." 


Ellen  made  no  reply. 

"  You  are  silent.  Of  course  this  prop- 
osition is  not  acceptable  to  you.  How 
could  you,  in  your  self-love,  acknowledge 
that  what  I  propose  is  right,  and  with 
your  fanciful  character  how  is  it  possible 
for  you  to  do  anything  that  is  sensible  or 
calculated  to  serve  a  purpose  1 " 

Ellen  looked  tired  and  annoyed ;  but 
she  forced  her  face  to  assume  another 
expression  as  she  said  :  — 

"  Evert,  you  do  me  injustice.  I  am 
always  willing  to  gratify  your  desires 
and  to  act  in  accordance  with  them." 

"  I  wish  it  were  so,  but  hitherto  I  have 
not  perceived  any  of  that  willingness." 

"  You  have  my  full  permission  to  gi^ 
the  three  hundred  riks  thalers  to  the 
Treasurer,  but  do  not  do  it  in  my  name, 
if  you  —  "  Ellen  ceased  and  looked  at 
her  husband  with  a  shy  expression. 

"  Leave  that  matter  to  me,  my  dear. 
The  Treasurer  has  personal  friendship 
and  respect  for  me  and  never  fails  to 
show-  it.  I  am  invited  to  dine  with  him 
to-day.  I  am  now  obliged  to  leave  you, 
but  will  be  home  at  one  o'clock,  for  I  am 
at  leisure  to-day  and  can  go  with  you  to 
Djurgarden.  I  wish  people  to  see  us 
together,  so  that  every  one  can  say  of  us 
that  we  still  live  happily  after  a  five 
years'  marriage." 

Evert  nodded  to  Ellen  and  left  the 
room.  When  he  had  made  his  toilet, 
which  was  no  slight  affair  for  him,  he 
returned  to  his  wife,  perfumed  and 
dressed  with  a  care  which  showed  how 
anxious  he  was  to  preserve  his  reputation 
of  a  "  handsome  man." 

"  I  forgot  to  tell  you,  Ellen,  that  I  de- 
sire you  to  work  more  zealously  on  the 
second  volume  of  your  poems.  I  think, 
besides,  that  you  ought  never  to  receive 
morning  calls  anywhere  but  in  your 
study ;  a  literary  woman  ought  to  spend 
her  forenoons  there,  else  any  one  would 
think  you  were  not  such  a  person.  One 
thing  more  ;  the  subject  of  woman's  ed- 
ucation is  now  the  fashion,  and  it  seems 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


to  "me    you    ought    to   write    something 
about    it.      Adieu  !      Do   not   forget   to 
think  of  your  toilet  for  the  1st  of  May." 
With  this  he  left.    » 
Ellen  smiled  bitterly. 


The  1st  of  May  came. 

"  What  an  elegant  carriage,  "what  re- 
markably fine  hoi'ses,  what  a  handsome 
couple  !  "  These  were  the  exclamations 
which  were  heard  among  the  crowd 
when  the  Assessor  of  Ochard  and  his 
wife  drove  by  in  their  splendid  new 
barouche. 

•  "  What  a  charming  hat  Fru  Ochard 
has  on !  Such  a  peculiar  shape  !  You 
can  be  sure  that  it  is  the  newest  style 
when  she  wears  it,"  said  the  ladies. 

"  He  is  noted  for  his  exquisite  taste, 
that  Ochard  !  Just  look  at  the  harness 
and  see  how  elegant  it  is  !  "  said  the  lions 
of  the  capital. 

"0,  if  I  could  be  in  Fru  Ochard's 
place  ! "  thoiight  the  young  girls.  "  How 
magnificently  she  is  dressed,  how  much 
notice  she  attracts,  and  what  a  handsome 
husband  she  has  !  She  ia  certainly  to 
be  envied  ! " 

Evert  was  happy  as  he  sat  and  smiled 
so  tenderly  at  Ellen,  chatting  gayly ;  for 
although  apparently  taken  up  with  his 
wife,  he  did  not  fail  to  observe  all  the 
glances,  full  of  admiration  or  envy,  which 
everywhere  followed  them. 

They  stopped  at  the  "  plain,"  '  and 
Evert  alighted  to  greet  Countess  Kerner 
as  she  sat  in  her  carriage.  With  his  foot 
on  the  step,  he  spoke  with  her  a  mo- 
ment ;  then  he  said  some  flattering 
words  to  Baroness  Ernstein  about  her 
toilet  and  hastened  from  her  to  the 
Rubens  carriage,  which  he  discovered  a 
little  farther  off.  By  this  means  he  ob- 
tained an  opportunity  of  shining  with 
his  aristocratic  acquaintances. 

"Ellen  looks  pale.  How  is  she1?" 
asked  Countess  Rubens. 


<(She  is  perfectly  well,"  was  E  vert's 
answer ;  but  he  was  highly  displeased 
with  Ellen  for  not  rouging  a  little,  as  he 
had  wished,  in  order  to  get  a  fresher 
look. 

When  he  returned  to  his  wife,  he  found 
her  carriage  surrounded  by  a  number 
of  young  men,  who  competed  to  render 
the  wealthy  and  distinguished  poetess 
their  homage;  for  in  their  estimation 
the  value  of  her  poetical  productions 
was  considerably  enhanced  by  the  wealth 
and  luxury  she  displayed:  A  poetess  in 
an  ordinary  dress  and  on  foot  can  never, 
according  to  the  judgment  of  such  per- 
sons, possess  the  genuis  of  one  who  rides 
in  a  costly  carriage  behind  magnificent 
horses,  and  is  dressed  in  silk  and  velvet. 

When  Evert  again  sat  beside  his  wife, 
he  said  in  a  displeased  tone,  although 
his  face  wore  a  smiling  expression,  — 

"  It  is  too  bad,  Ellen,  that  you  are  so 
stubborn;  if  you  had  followed  my  ad- 
vice and  colored  your  cheeks  qtiite  slight- 
ly, I  should  have  escaped  the  unpleasant 
effects  of  your  looking  pale  and  suffering. 
But  you  are  bound  to  follow  your  fan- 
tastic caprices  in  everything  !  " 


A  few  days  after  this,  people  read  the 
following  in  all  the  papers  ;  — 

"  The  Assessor  of  Ochard  and  his  wife 
have  given  three  hundred  riks  thalers  to 
the  Treasurer,  to  be  distributed  among 
the  most  needy  in  the  capital  on  his 
Royal  Highness,  the  Crown  Prince's  birth- 
day." 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  this 
appeared  in  the  newspapers,  Evert  came 
in  to  his  wife  with  Count  Uno  Kerner. 

"  Try  to  chat  away  an  hour  with  Uno,  " 
said  he,  "until  I  am  through  with  Count 

K ,  who  has  something  important  to 

say  to  me.  I  would  then  like  to  speak 
a  few  words  with  you,  Uno." 

"You  were  not  at  Djurgarden  on  the 
1st  of  May1?"  said  Ellen,  who  observed 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


73 


with  surprise  that  Uno  looked  unusually 
cold  and  reserved. 

"  No,  I  had  no  desire  to  see  all  that 
folly  and  then  think  of  all  the  misery 
that  exists,"  answered  Uno. 

But  the  weather  was  glorious,  it  was  a 
really  beautiful  spring  day," 

"  True  !  I  enjoyed  it  too  in  my  way. 
I  spent  the  1st  of  May  at  Loda." 

"  At  Lbda  1  fourteen  miles  from  here  !  " 

"  Yes,  the  farther  away  the  better. 
I  went  there  the  last  of  April  and  came 
back  yesterday. 

"  Then  you  had  an  especial  reason  for 
this  journey  ] " 

"Yes,  but  it  was  entirely  personal. 
It  was  a  caprice,  if  you  will.  But  the 
return  here  effaced  all  the  glorious  im- 
pressions of  my  little  trip  in  the  country1?" 

"  Has  anything  unpleasant  occurred  1 " 
said  she  kindly. 

"Yes.  The  angel  whom  I  there 
adored  changed  at  my  arrival  here  to  an 
ordinary  woman.  0,  illusions  !  how 
mournful  you  are  ! " 

Ellen's  eyes  sank  before  the  expression 
in  Uno's,  and  a  deep  flush  burned  on 
her  cheeks.  She  was  silent. 

"  That  was  a  fine  donation  to  the  poor, 
which  Evert  and  his  wife  gave  to  the 
Treasurer,"  added  he  directly  with  a  per- 
ceptible bitterness  in  his  voice.  "When 
I  read  of  it,  I  remembered  a  little  dis- 
pute which  you  and  I  had  about  the 
beautiful  quality  of  being  unpretending. 
You  have  probably  forgotten  the  con- 
troversy ] " 

Ellen  was  not  able  to  answer.  Every 
word  lacerated  her  heart  and  tore  open 
the  wounds  which  bled  there  in  silence. 

"  I  remember  right  well  your  asserting 
that  you  possessed  the  rare  quality  of 
not  wishing  to  shine  with  the  good  which 
you  did." 

"And  you  did  not  believe  that  I  spoke 
the  truth,"  replied  Ellen  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Well,  then,  was  I  right  or  wrong 
when  I  doubted  ?  *» 

Ellen  bowed  her  head. 


"  Was  I  wrong  when  I  believed  that 
you,  like  most  women,  was  disposed  to 
play  the  part  which  would  take  best  out 
on  the  world's  stage  ? " 

Ellen  did  not  answer. 

"  You  are  silent,  you  think  that  I 
meddle  in  an  unbecoming  manner  in  af- 
fairs that  do  not  concern  me.  You  feel 
wounded,  and  consider  me  wrong." 

"  No,  Uno,  no,"  she  whispered,  "  you 
are  right,  I  am  not  unpretending,  I  am 
a  vain  fool  who  wishes  to  shine  and  win 
applause."  She  looked  up ;  two  tears 
rolled  slowly  down  her  cheeks. 

Uno  had  never  seen  Ellen  weep  before. 
There  was  something  so  humble,  so 
mild  and  ravishing  in  the  expression  of 
her  face,  that  he  could  have  thrown  him- 
self on  his  knees  and  retracted  his  words ; 
but  there  was  a  certain  something  in  her 
whole  demeanor  which  in  the  first  place 
inspired  respect  and  which  restrained 
every  outburst  of  passionate  feeling.  He 
therefore  remained  motionless  in  his 
place,  but  with  his  gaze  fastened  on  this 
face  which  was  surrounded  by  a  halo  of 
purity.  He  could  not  refrain  from 
seizing  her  hand  while  he  said  with 
warmth,  — 

"  Forgive  me  !  I  have  wounded  you. 
I  have  forced  tears  from  your  eyes  with 
my  words,  and  have  now  as  <  formerly 
done  you  injustice.  Only  tell  me  that  it 
is  not  you  who  have  given  publicity  to 
your  work  of  charity,  and  I  will  believe 
you.  Yes,  I  will  believe  you,  so  much 
rather  as  I  ought  to  have  guessed  that 
this  was  one  of  Evert's  freaks." 

"  Uno,"  exclaimed  Ellen  with  anima- 
tion, "  you  now  for  the  first  time  commit 
a  mistake.  Evert  has  no  part  in  it.  The 
whole  folly  of  this  act  belongs  to  me,  me 
alone." 

"  Ah,  Ellen,  why  force  me  to  consider 
you  a  slave  to  a  pitiful  vanity  1 "  Uno's 
look  was  sorrowful. 

"  Because  one  friend  ought  not  to 
cherish  incorrect  ideas  about  the  other," 
answered  she. 


74 


THE   WIFE   OF  A  VAIN    MAN. 


A  pause  ensued.  Uno  rose  and  went 
to  the  piano.  He  preluded  a  long  time. 
Ellen  leaned  her  cheek  against  her  hand 
and  looked  out  into  the  street.  Sudden- 
ly he  began  to  sing  the  same  ballad  that 
he  had  heard  Ellen  sing  at  Lpda.  There 
were  wonderful  things  passing  in  the 
young  woman's  breast  as  she  sat  and 
listened  to  this  voice.  The  emptiness  of 
her  home,  the  aimlessness  of  her  life,  so 
rich  in  outer  splendor,  so  poor  in  actual 
happiness,  all,  all  appeared  before  her 
inner  view,  and  the  longing  for  domestic 
bliss  and  mutual  love  which  had  so  often 
filled  her  heart  during  her  marriage  was 
now  felt  more  acutely.  She  could  have 
wept,  wept  over  herself  and  all  the 
beautiful  dreams  which  had  fled.  Mem- 
ories, tempting  and  yet  strangely  bitter, 
came  up  in  her  soul  as  she  recalled  the 
evening  when  she,  abandoned  to  herself 
and  in  solitude,  had  sung  that  song,  and 
again  she  seemed  to  feel  the  same  trem- 
bling which  she  experienced  when  Uno 
bade  her  sing  it  once  more.  How  much 
had  she  not  then  hoped  from  life  and 
from  the  man  to  whom  she  was  be- 
trothed, and  how  had  not  this  man's  ir- 
remediable vanity  humiliated  and  wound- 
ed her,  and  by  this  means  laid  waste  the 
Eden  of  which  she  had  dreamed  ! 

Ellen  remained  motionless  even  after 
the  song  ceased.  From  the  confused 
whirl  of  thoughts  and  feelings  in  her 
soul,  she  was  roused  by  these  words, 
which  Uno  uttered  quite  near  her,  — 

"  Let  me  once  more  hear  you  sing." 

"  It  is  impossible  this  evening,"  stam- 
mered she,  without  turning  her  head. 
Uno  continued,  after  a  moment's  si- 
lence, — 

u  Do  you  remember  our  little  feuds  at 
Lbda 1 " 

She  bowed  her  head  affirmatively,  and 
he  continued,  — 

"  Do  you  remember  what  a  sharp  re- 
buke you  gave  me  on  Ebba's  account, 
in  the  supposition  that  I  loved  Sap- 
pho?" 


"  You  said  that  I  was  mistaken,  and  I 
believed  you." 

"Yes,  God  knows  .you  were  mistaken; 
it  is  so  easy  to  be  in  error  !  We  gener- 
ally judge  by  appearances." 

"  Alas,  yes  !  But  that  time  appear- 
ances were  against  you." 

"  I  will  tell  you  all  the  circumstances 
of  the  case.  It  was  said  that  Sappho 
had  had  a  previous  attachment,  and  only 
married  Oscar  out  of  pique.  She  and  I 
happened  to  speak  of  family  relations, 
and  then  I  said,  that,  on  no  conditions 
in  the  world,  would  I,  like  Oscar,  marry  a 
young,  beautiful,  and  wealthy  woman, 
who  only  gave  me  her  hand  because  she 
could  not  have  the  one  she  loved.  Sap- 
pho was  at  first  very  much  excited  and 
then  burst  into  tears.  At  the  sight  of 
the  grief  I  had  occasioned,  and  realizing 
the  lack  of  delicacy  in  my  words,  I 
begged  her  forgiveness,  while  I  was  fully 
as  agitated  as  she.  It  was  at  this  mo- 
ment that  you  saw  me  at  her  feet,  and 
came  to  your  conclusion  about  my  feel- 
ings. It  has  often  pained  me  to  think 
that  you  could  believe  me  capable  of  so 
despicable  an  act  as  to  speak  to  a  mar- 
ried woman  of  love." 

"  Since  then  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
never  to  judge  by  appearances,"  replied 
Ellen,  who  had  listened  with  interest  to 
Uno's  words.  "But  if  I  committed  a 
mistake  in  regard  to  Sappho,  I  did  not 
in  regard  to  Ebba.  It  has  surprised  me 
when  I  have  thought  of  the  matter,  that 
you,  who  are  so  stern  and  strict  in  all 
that  pertains  to  morals,  could  for  a  mo- 
ment try  to  make  an  impression  on 
Ebba  when  you  were  not  attached  to  her." 

"  You  are  right,  Ellen ;  but  the  reason 
of  it  was  that  I  wished  to  love  her.  Ah  ! 
even  to  this  moment  I  desire  that  I  could 
have  become  attached  to  this  charming 
child." 

"  If  you  wished  it,  why  could  you  not  ] 
She,  who  is  so  fully  created  to  shed  hap- 
piness around  her,  ought  not  to  be  hard 
to  love." 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAK 


75 


"  I  could  not  love  her,  for  I  already 
loved  another."' 

Why  did  Ellen  blush?  She  did  not 
know  herself.  Uno  continued,  — 

"And  this  other  I  did  not  wish  to 
love.  One  is  sometimes  made  up  of  sheer 
contradictions,  and  so  was  it  also  with  me. 
We  are  governed  more  by,  our  feelings 
than  by  our  will." 

"  Not  always  ! "  said  Ellen,  with  an 
open  glance.  "  With  our  will  we  control 
our  feelings,  so  that  they  do  not  exceed 
the  domain  of  right." 

"  That  was  the  use  which  I  made  of 
my  will.  I  should  despise  myself  if  I 
allowed  passion  to  make  me  forgetful  of 
what  honor  and  conscience  demand." 

Evert's  entrance  broke  off  the  conver- 
sation. The  latter  began  to  talk  to  Uno 
about  the  services  which  he  considered 
himself  to  have  rendered  the  government 
during  the  Diet,  and  spoke  so  boastiugly 
of  it,  that  Ellen  blushed  with  distress. 
She  feared  that  her  husband,  in  his  zeal 
to  obtain  an  order,  would  expose  his  main 
weakness  too  much.  What  she  dreaded 
actually  occurred  when  Evert  said,  — 

"  You  find  from  this,  that  in  all  justice 
they  cannot  avoid  giving  me  a  proof  of 
their  satisfaction,  provided  that  some  of 
my  friends  at  court  present  the  matter 
in  the  proper  light.  In  this  respect  I 
count  upon  your  and  your  brother-iu  law's 
friendship  for  me.  You  stand  well  at 
court,  and  every  one  knows  what  an  in- 
fluence your  brother-in-law  possesses." 

"  Kest  assured  that  neither  he  nor  I  will 
neglect  to  employ  it  to  your  advantage," 
replied  Uno,  as  Ellen  fancied,  somewhat 
coldly  although  politely.  She  felt  that 
Uno's  eyes  rested  on  her. 

"  To  me  personally  it  is  all  the  same 
whether  I  have  a  star  or  not,"  resumed 
Evert ;  "  but  it  would  afford  me  pleasure 
because  Ellen  desires  it,  and  also  for  the 
reason  that  it  is  rather  a  shame  to  lack 
this  decoration  than  an  honor  to  wear 
it.  Besides,  if  one  has  a  wife  with  never 
so  little  vanity,  it  becomes  something 


which  he  almost   regards  as  a  necessi- 

ty-" 

"Would  it  afford  Ellen  so  great  a 
pleasure  to  see  Evert  decorated  with  the 
North  Star,"  *  asked  Uno  with  a  search- 
ing glance. 

Evert  reddened  and  looked  uneasily  at 
his  wife  ;  but  his  anxiety  was  unnecessa- 
ry. Ellen  answered  smiling,  but  without 
looking  up,  — 

"  Certainly  it  would." 

When  Uno  left  Ochard's  house  that 
evening,  he  thought :  "  And  that  vain 
simpleton  can  have  such  a  gem  of  a  wife ! 
How  afraid  she  is  that  the  least  shadow 
shall  fall  on  him  !  But  how  is  it  possible 
that  such  a  richly  endowed  nature  can 
love  this  fool,  who  lives  only  for^his  van- 
ity !  Does  she  love  him  1 "  he  asked 
himself,  and  stopped  abruptly. 


It  was  at  the  end  of  June.  The  fash- 
ionable watering-place,  ***,  was  filled  with 
persons  belonging  to  rich  and  noble  fam- 
ilies. Luxuiy  and  magnificence  were  here 
displayed  according  to  each  one's  greater 
or  less  desire  to  shine.  People  came  to 
bathe  and  regain  their  health,  to  amuse 
themselves  and  make  a  show,  to  compete 
with  and  eclipse  others.  They  drove  the 
chariot  of  folly  and  pleasure  at  full  speed, 
under  the  pretext  of  recuperating  their 
strength  by  inhaling  the  fresh  sea-air. 

Assessor  Ochard  and  wife  appeared 
there  with  all  pomp  and  state.  Ellen 
displayed  a  magnificence  of  attire,  which, 
according  to  custom,  excited  open  admi- 
ration and  secret  envy.  There,  as  every- 
where, she  threw  all  others  into  the 
shade  with  her  taste  and  elegance.  She 
was,  besides,  an  acknowledged  woman  of 
genius,  a  favorite  poetess  who  had  re- 
ceived the  prize,  and  it  was  consequently 
natural  that  she  should  become  the  ob- 
ject of  flattery  and  homage  from  all 
quarters. 

*  A  Swedish  decoration  of  the  highest  order. 


76 


THE   WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


The  day  after  their  arrival  at  ***,  Evert 
came  in  to  his  wife,  accompanied  by  Uno. 
Ellen  looked  almost  frightened  when  she 
saw  him. 

"My  coming  surprises  you,"  said  he. 

"  Yes,  it  does,  indeed.  You  contem- 
plated spending  the  summer  abroad," 
answered  she. 

"  Yes,  that  was  my  intention.  But  I 
have  become  tired  of  long  journeys.  I 
have  travelled  all  over  Europe  and  there- 
fore —  " 

"  He  allowed  me  to  persxiade  him  to 
come  here,"  fell  in  Evert.  "  As  I  cannot 
stay  here  more  than  a  week,  you  and 
Baroness  Ernstein  would  be  left  entirely 
without  masculine  protection,  when  I  re- 
turned to  Stockholm ;  therefore  I  pro- 
posed to  Uno  to  take  the  responsibility 
of  watching  over  you  and  becoming  your 
chevalier  during  my  absence." 

• "  That  was  a  trust  conferring  so  much 
honor,  that  I  would  by  no  means  have 
resigned  it  to  any  other,"  said  Uno. 

The  first  ball  was  given  the  same  even- 
ing. Evert  stood  in  the  midst  of  some 
friends  and  acquaintances  and  looked  at 
the  dance.  Ellen  was  dancing  with  Uno. 

"  Are  you  going  away  in  a  week  1 " 
inquired  one  of  the  circle. 

"Yes,  I  am  compelled  to,  on  account 
of  matters  of  importance  in  the  Diet," 
answered  he. 

"  And  leave  your  charming  wife  here 
all  alone  ? " 

"  She  is  acquainted  with  almost  every- 
body at  the  bath.  She  is  going  to  share 
her  apartments  with  Baroness  Ernstein. 
Besides,  Count  Uno  Kerner,  as  a  distant 
relative  of  my  wife's,  is  to  be  her  pro- 
tector during  my  absence." 

"  Is  your  wife  related  to  the  Kerners  1 " 

"  Yes,  her  mother  was  a  relative  of 
Countess  Kerner's,"  replied  Evert  with 
stiidied  carelessness. 

"  You  have  been  very  fortunate, 
Ochard,  in  obtaining  such  a  wealthy, 
amiable,  and  gifted  woman  for  your 
wife." 


"  I  can  truly  admit  that  fortune  fa- 
vored me  that  time,"  said  Evert  smiling ; 
"for  I  assure  you  that  I  had  no  idea  of 
courting  her  in  the  beginning,  and  I 
should  probably  never  have  thought  of 
doing  so,  for  I  was  then  in  love  with  an- 
other lady,  had  she  not  shown  me  an  at- 
tention which  informed  me  that  I  had 
made  a  conquest  unawares.  When  a 
man  sees  himself  loved  by  a  young,  beau- 
tiful, captivating  woman,  he  easily  ac- 
commodates himself  to  his  fate  and 
accepts  the  yoke  she  would  impose." 

"  You  have  really  an  astonishing  luck 
with  women." 

"Yes,  I  do  not  know  from  what  it 
comes ;  my  wife,  for  example,  actually 
adores  me." 

"And  you?" 

"  We  men  cannot  love  so  passionately 
as  women.  Our  time,  besides,  is  taken 
up  by  weightier  matters ;  but  I  am  inex- 
pressibly fond  of  her,  and  make  it  a  point 
of  honor  to  comply  with  her  wishes  in 
all  things  and  her  caprices  also." 

At  the  very  beginning  of  the  conversa- 
tion, Uno,  after  finishing  the  dance,  had 
conducted  Ellen  to  a  sofa  close  behind 
Evert,  without  the  latter's  observing  it. 
Both  Uno  and  Ellen  heard  all  that  was 
said. 

She  who  was  so  careful  of  her  hus- 
band's reputation,  and  did  everything  to 
place  him  in  such  a  light  that  his  faults 
should  not  appear,  now  heard  this  hus- 
band boast  in  a  heartless  manner  that  he 
had  not  been  the  one  who  first  loved  her, 
but  that  it  was  she  who,  through  her  vio- 
lent fancy,  had  occasioned  him  to  bind 
himself  to  her.  And  besides  this  boast 
that  she  adored  him,  and  that  he  from  a 
sense  of  honor  gratified  her  caprices,  all, 
all  was  calculated  to  wound  her  sensitive 
soul. 

With  a  dark  brow  and  threatening  look 
Uno  sat  at  Ellen's  side.  When  the  speak- 
ers had  left,  he  said  in  a  tone  full  of  bit- 
terness, — 

"  It  was  thus  you  who,  through  your 


THE   WIFE   OP  A  TAIN  MAN. 


77 


violent  love,  compelled  your  husband  to 
pay  his  addresses  to  you  1  He  does  not 
make  any  great  secret  of  the  happiness 
which  your  love  conferred  upon  him." 

It  needed  only  this  to  increase  Ellen's 
pain.  She  knew  that  she  was  observed 
on  all  sides,  and  that  any  exhibition  of 
feeling  would  be  noticed  ;  she  therefore 
repressed  by  a  violent  effort  the  grief 
which  would  have  forced  tears  from  her 
eyes.  She  looked  at  Uno  and  said  in  an 
almost  beseeching  voice,  — 

"  Uno,  not  a  word  further  upon  this,  if 
the  friendship  you  have  for  me  is  real." 

"  How  can  you  appeal  to  my  friendship 
at  this  moment  3  Do  you  know  — 

"  I  know  that  Uno  Kerner  is  too  much 
of  a  nobleman  to  wish  to  wound  the  wo- 
man who  — " 

"  Is  not  happy  !  You  are  right."  He 
rose  and  left  her. 

A  few  moments  afterwards  Ellen  saw 
him  chatting  merrily  with  Baroness  Au- 
gusta. 

At  this  sight  she  felt  so  miserable,  so 
alone,  so  deserted  by  all,  that  she  could 
have  melted  into  tears.  Uno's  tone  and 
manner  had  pained  her,  she  fancied  that 
there  was  in  this  tone  something  scorn- 
ful and  contemptuous.  Ah  !  if  he  had 
spoken  kindly,  had  stayed  with  her  and 
sought  by  his  presence  to  dispel  the 
grief  which  her  husband's  words  occa- 
sioned her,  she  would  then  have  felt  less 
miserable.  His  coldness  and  indifference 
wounded  her  deeply.  While  she  was  un- 
der the  sway  of  these  painful  feelings, 
we  will  listen  to  the  Baroness  and  Uno's 
conversation. 

"  I  suppose  you  saw  Ellen  at  the  time 
when  her  fancy  for  Ochard  arose  ? " 

"  Yes,  certainly  !  He  had  incredible 
difficulty  in  interesting  the  proud  young 
girl,  who  regarded  all  young  men  with 
great  indifference.  I  have  never  seen  a 
girl  who  cared  so  little  for  attention.  I 
think  that  he  pressed  his  suit  in  vain  for 
two  whole  years." 

"  And  yet  I  have  heard  precisely  the 


contrary,  namely,  that  she  had  first  taken 
a  fancy  to  him." 

"  Ha  ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  the  Baroness. 
"  I  would  bet  anything  that  Ochard  him- 
self has  spread  that ;  but  any  one  who 
has  seen  them  can  testify  to  the  contra- 
ry. I  suppose  he  will  assert  in  a  few 
years  that  Ellen  proposed  to  him,  in  or- 
der to  prove  palpably  how  irresistible  he 
has  been." 

"  But  one  cannot  readily  suppose  that 
an  honorable  man  would  wish  to  boast  at 
his  wife's  expense." 

"  But  a  vain  man  will  do  that  and 
much  more,  to  gratify  his  ruling  passion. 
You  see,  Count,  you  do  not  wish  to 
acknowledge  what  pitiful  fools  men  are, 
when  they  are  tempted  by  the  demon  of 
vanity.  As  far  as  Ochard  personally  is 
concerned,  he  is  the  greatest  of  all  such 
fools." 

"  You  will  not  dispute  that  Fru  Ochard 
loved  him  1 " 

"  No,  not  by  any  means ;  but  that  she 
was  not  the  one  who  first  fell  into  the 
flame,  I  can  assure  you ;  and  what  is 
more,  I  do  not  think  that  Ellen  is  one  of 
the  passionate  kind.  She  loves  her  hus- 
band with  a  mild  and  quiet  affection, 
which  makes  her  capable  of  any  sacri- 
fice ;  but  she  does  not  and  has  never 
entertained  any  strong  and  vehement 
passion  for  him.  As  little  would  she 
be  able  to  feel  it  for  another." 

"  Your  words  would  lead  one  to  infer 
that  she  is  a  little  bit  insensible." 

"  Such  at  least  is  my  idea  of  Ellen's 
character." 

"  There  would  then  be  a  contradiction 
between  her  power  of  imagination  and 
her  heart,  for  the  former  is  glowing  as 
the  southern  sun,  at  least  to  judge  by 
her  poetic  productions." 

"  And  why  not  1  One  capacity  of  the 
soul  is  often  developed  at  the  expense  of 
another.  Ellen  would  have  been  too 
richly  endowed  if  her  sensibility  had 
received  the  same  degree  of  strength  as 
her  genius.  Besides,  it  may  be  that  her 


78 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


sensibility  stopped  at  this  normal  stand- 
point, just  from  the  reason  that  she 
happened  to  become  attached  to  this 
man,  who  is  now  her  husband,  and  who, 
notwithstanding  his  handsome  face  and 
elegant  attire,  appears  somewhat  super- 
ficial on  a  nearer  acquaintance." 

Uno  had  become  thoughtful.  The 
music  called  the  Baroness  to  the  dance  ; 
but  Uno  remained  still  and  followed  all 
Ellen's  motions  with  the  greatest  in- 
terest, as  if  he  had  wished  to  read  her 
heart. 


That  night,  when  Ellen  returned  home, 
she  had  taken  the  resolution  not  to  refer 
to  the  conversation  that  she  had  heard. 
She  now  knew  this  vain  man  perfectly. 
To  rebuke  him  for  the  fault  which  he 
had  committed  would  only  wound  his 
self-love  and  completely  break  the  har- 
mony between  them.  She  no  longer 
thought  of  domestic  happiness.  Nothing 
of  that  kind  could  come  in  question  with 
a  man  who  placed  his  desire  to  shine  in 
the  world  before  all  else. 

"  I  have  promised  before  God  to  share 
prosperity  and  adversity  with  him,  to 
live  for  his  happiness,  to  forget  myself 
for  his  sake  ;  well  then,  I  will  keep  my 
vow,  regardless  of  how  he  keeps  his ;  and 
even  if  my  heart  bleeds,  I  will  still  be 
faithful  to  my  diity,"  thought  Ellen,  as 
she  went  to  join  her  husband. 
Evert  said  with  a  triumphant  smile,  — 

"  I  owe  you  a  compliment  for  your 
toilet,  it  was  exquisite ;  and  as  Count 

F ,    Baron   U ,  Captain  E , 

and  some  others  said  to  me,  there  were 
none  who  could  gainsay  that  you  were 
the  best  dressed  of  any  at  the  ball.  The 
only  thing  I  had  to  find  fault  with  was, 
that  your  hair  was  not  so  arranged  as  to 
show  its  abundance.  A  lady  of  the  world, 
dear  Ellen,  never  neglects  to  display  the 
treasures  of  beauty  and  charms  which 
nature  has  given  her." 

Two   days   subsequent   Evert  gave   a 


breakfast  to  his  numeixms  friends,  as  he 
was  to  depart  the  following  day.  Uno, 
of  course,  was  among  them,  besides 
Baroness  Ernstein's  brother-in-law,  the 
young  Baron  Alfred  Ernstein.  When 
the  gentlemen  had  drank  wine,  and  it 
had  gone  to  their  heads  a  little,  they  be- 
gan to  talk  about  women.  Evert  related 
how  lucky  he  had  been  and  still  was 
with  the  fair  sex.  He  regretted  that  he 
could  not  even  as  a  married  man  escape 
the  troublesome  fortune  of  exciting  love. 
"  It  is  generally  asserted,"  said  a 
young  Lieutenant  of  the  Guard,  "that 
you  have  been  deeply  in  love  with  Baron- 
ess Ernstein,  and  even  betrothed  to  her. 
If  that  is  so,  why  did  you  not  marry 
her?" 

"Well,  what  would  you  have  a  man 
do  1  I  was  not  sufficiently  enamored 
to  content  myself  with  love  in  a  cot- 
tage," answered  Evert,  shrugging  his 
shoulders ;  "  but  I  willingly  confess  that 
I  thought  a  good  deal  of  Augusta,  and  it 
is  only  my  sense  of  honor  which  makes 
me  as  a  married  man  remain  cold  to  the 
regard  which  she  still  cherishes  for  me." 

"  Bravo  ! "  exclaimed  the  Lieutenant, 
laughing.  "  The  Baroness  is  a  friend  of 
the  wife  and  in  love  with  the  husband  ! 
But,  my  dear  fellow,  you  may  try  to 
cheat  whom  you  will,  still  you  will  not 
get  me  to  believe  that  your  heart  is  cold 
to  the  beautiful  Baroness.  One  cannot 
very  well  love  his  wife  to  all  eternity, 
even  if  that  wife  is  as  charming  a  woman 
in  all  respects  as  yours." 

"You  forget  that  when  one  is  loved 
passionately,  and  knows  himself  to  be 
the  object  of  a  captivating  wife's  ex- 
clusive devotion,  he  cannot  but  remain 
faithful  to  her.  I,  at  least,  am  too  honor- 
able a  man  to  act  otherwise." 

"  In  the  mean  time  the  Baroness  is 
your  wife's,  intimate  friend,  and  your 
sense  of  honor  is  in  continual  strife  with 
the  impression  which  the  beautiful  wo- 
man must  make  on  you." 

"  Say  rather  the  pain  which  it  must 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


79 


occasion  to  see  one's  self  loved,  and  neither 
possess  the  inclination  nor  the  right  to 
respond  to  the  tenderness  which  one  in- 
spires against  his  will."  Evert's  eyes 
flew  over  to  the  young  Baron,  who,  pale 
and  silent,  had  listened  to  the  whole  con- 
versation. 

Uno  went  forward  and  laid  his  hand  on 
Evert's  shoulder,  while  he  said,  — 

"  And  it  is  very  painful  to  see  a  wo- 
man with  an  unblemished  replication 
become  the  victim  of  a  thoughtless  jest." 
Uno  turned  to  the  others  :  "  Gentlemen, 
there  are  women  enough  without  honor 
to  jest  over ;  therefore  leave  those  who 
have  it  in  peace." 

A  general  silence  succeeded  these 
words.  Evert  colored  with  resentment, 
and  a  feeling  of  spite  against  Uno  arose 
in  his  heart ;  but  his  vanity  needed  the 
Count,  therefore  he  swallowed  the  re- 
buke. 


Ellen  and  Baroness  Augusta  were  to 
take  a  short  ride  on  horseback  in  the 
afternoon.  They  had  decided  to  go 
alone,  attended  only  by  a  servant. 

The  gentlemen  had  not  yet  separated 
after  their  late  breakfast  when  Baron  Al- 
fred discovered  his  sister-in-law  on  horse- 
back in  the  main  avenue.  He  stole  away 
from  the  general  commotion  which  the 
wine  had  occasioned. 

The  Baroness  and  Ellen  allowed  their 
horses  to  go  at  a  foot-pace,  while  they 
held  a  lively  conversation.  The  subject 
which  they  treated  was  woman's  position 
in  life. 

"The  fault  with  us  women,"  said 
Ellen,  "lies  just  here,  that  we  regard 
ourselves  as  dolls  in  society,  afcd  do  not 
place  any  higher  aim  before  us.  Just 
the  indifference  which  even  you  manifest 
is  a  prevailing  trait  with  all  our  sex  and 
a  result  of  our  education,  such  as  it  ribw 
is.  Tell  me,  do  you  really  feel  satisfied 
when  yoxi  think  of  your  past  life  and  ask 
yourself  the  question,  What  is  the  ob- 


ject of  my  existence  ?  Have  I  been  of 
use  in  the  spot  where  I  was  placed1? 
Have  I  lived  for  any  benefit  to  myself  or 
others  1  What  answer  do  you  then  make 
your  conscience  ? " 

"  That  I  have  amused  myself,  dressed 
myself,  thrown  away  large  sums  of  mon- 
ey, and  yet  with  all  this  found  time  te- 
dious, although  it  is  scarcely  sufficient  for 
recreations.  But  what  in  the  name  of 
heaven  would  you  have  me  do  1  We  do 
not  live  in  the  patriarchal  times  when  it 
was  incumbent  on  women  to  fetch  water 
from  the  well.  What  can  we,  who  are 
rich  and  unoccupied,  very  well  do,  except, 
like  the  Egyptian  woman,  to  adorn  our- 
selves, amuse  ourselves,  and  while  away 
the  time  at  the  toilet?  We  are  a  kind 
of  article  of  luxury  in  our  rich  husbands' 
houses,  and  it  becomes  our  only  occupation 
to  flatter  their  vanity  by  our  magnificence. 
In  all  times  man  has  treated  woman  as  a 
being  inferior  to  him,  and  he  will  treat 
her  so  for  all  time  to  come.  Well  then, 
my  friend,  what  remain's  to  us  1  Only  to 
draw  the  car  of  triumph  for  Our  masters 
by  becoming  the  finest  ornament  in  their 
establishment." 

"  Do  you  know,  Augusta,  that  there  is 
something  sad  in  hearing  a  richly  en- 
dowed woman  like  you  talk  in  this  way ; 
and  just  in  consequence  of  this  I  main- 
tain my  assertion,  that  it  is  woman's  own 
disinclination  to  raise  herself  from  her 
childish  condition  which  makes  man  re- 
spect her  so  little.  She  presents  a  sad 
image  of  folly  and  spiritual  poverty,  and 
yet  she  wishes  to  be  considered  a  think- 
ing being.  If,  instead  of  this,  she  tried  to 
cultivate  her  soul  by  acquiring  knowledge, 
what  a  change  would  take  place  within 
her,  how  different  would  she  understand 
her  destiny  !  It,  is  alas,  only  the  will 
which  is  wanting  in  us ;  for  one  can  be 
of  service  in  any  sphere,  and  so  regulate 
one's  life  as  to  be  a  useful  member  of  so- 
ciety." 

"  Well,  my  little  moralist,  why  do  you 
waste  your  life  ] " 


80 


THE  WIFE   OF  A   VAIN   MAN. 


Ellen  was  silent. 

"I  will  tell  you;  you  are  a  slave  to 
your  husband's  vanity.  Your  bonds  are 
as  real  and  more  indissoluble  than  those 
of  the  black  slave." 

"Augusta,  you  are  wrong." 

"  Hush,  do  not  speak  to  me  about 
Evert ;  I  know  him." 

At  that  moment  the  trot  of  two  horses 
was  heard  behind  them. 

"  There  !  "  exclaimed  Augusta,  "  now 
we  are  going  to  be  disturbed  ;  we  are 
probably  followed  by  some  of  those  gen- 
tlemen who  have  been  drinking  to  such 
an  extent  that  they  have  lost  the  little 
reason  which  fell  to  their  share.  I  as- 
sure you,  that  if  we  women  are  fine  dolls 
in  society,  the  men  are  great  fools  in  the 
community.  Are  they  thinking  beings, 
these  men  who  get  intoxicated  with 
strong  drink  and  heedlessly  abandon 
themselves  to  all  their  miserable  desires  1 
If  we  are  slaves  to  them,  then  they  are 
slaves  to  their  passions." 

"You  have  an  entirely  too  dismal 
philosophy  of  life,  my  dear  Augusta.  I, 
for  my  part,  can  never  but  admire  the 
great  things  which  have  been  accom- 
plished in  the  world  by  women's  sons, 
and  it  seems  to  me  that  there  is  some- 
thing so  beautiful,  so  important,  in  the 
consciousness  that  we,  the  weaker  por- 
tion of  the  human  family,  have  been 
placed  at  man's  side  as  his  helpmate. 
As  daughters  we  care  for  his  old  age, 
as  wives  for  his  maturity,  as  mothers 
for  his  childhood.  It  is  our  sons  who 
are  to  accomplish  great  deeds,  and  it  is 
the  mother  who  in  the  child's  soul  must 
sow  the  seeds  of  the  man's  virtues." 

"  Those  seeds  must  have  been  very 
sparsely  sown  when  the  harvest  of  virtues 
has  been  so  scanty,"  said  Augusta. 

"  And  why  is  this  1 "  exclaimed  Ellen 
with  spirit ;  "  because  the  eaothers  spend 
their  lives  as  you  and  I  do."  The  horses' 
tread  and  greeting  voices  were  now  heard 
close  behind  them. 

Baron  Alfred,  a  young  man  of  twenty, 


rode  forward  to  his  sister-in-law,  and  Uno 
took  his  place  at  Ellen's  side.  He  and 
Ellen  had  not  exchanged  a  word  since 
the  ball. 

"  Perhaps  we  disturb  the  ladies,"  said 
the  Baron. 

"  Yes  indeed,  and  we  should  be  greatly 
indebted  to  you,  gentlemen,  if  you  con- 
tinued your  ride,"  replied  the  Baroness. 

"  Do  not  be  so  cruel,  my  dear  Augus- 
ta ;  I  come  with  fresh  greetings  from  a 
person  who  is  dear  to  both  ladies,"  con- 
tinued the  Baron. 

"  Alfred,  you  seem  at  present  to  have 
a  certain  disposition  to  talk  nonsense." 

"  Not  at  all ;  I  take  the  Count  to  wit- 
ness that  my  words  were  fully  in  accord- 
ance with  the  truth."  Alfred  spoke  with 
that  peculiar  gayety  under  which  one 
tries  to  conceal  strong  emotion. 

"  Well,  from  whom  then  is  the  greet- 
ing 1 "  asked  Ellen,  who  found  it  painful 
to  ride  in  silence  at  Uno's  side.  She 
knew  that  his  eyes  sought  hers  ;  but  she 
did  not  have  the  courage,  after  what  she 
had  heard  her  husband  utter,  to  meet 
the  cold,  dark  look  which  he  had  fas- 
tened upon  her. 

"  From  your  husband,  your  Grace. 
That  he  is  dear  to  you  is  but  natural ; 
and  to  judge  from  his  words,  he  seems 
to  be  the  same  to  Augusta." 

"  From  his  words  ]  What  does  that 
mean  1 "  exclaimed  the  Baroness,  and 
threw  her  head  back  proudly. 

"  Yes,  from  his  words.  He  just  now 
said  in  company,  that  Baroness  Augusta 
Ernstein  was  so  in  love  with  him  that  he 
needed  all  his  strength  of  soul  and  sense 
of  honor  to  escape  the  snares  which  her 
love  spread  for  him.  Ah  !  my  sister, 
you  hane  been  very  inconsiderate  to 
leave  your  heart's  secret  in  Assessor 
Ochard's  keeping." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  insult  me  1 " 

"  I  speak  only  from  what  I  have  just 
heard  Ochard  say." 

"  That  goes  too  far,"  said  the  Baroness, 
and  jerked  the  reins  so  violently  that 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


81 


her  horse  was  on  the  point  of  rearing. 
"  So  mad,  so  foolhardy,  he  could  not 
be,"  she  added. 

"  Ask  the  Count,  or  whom  you  please 
of  those  who  were  present  at  breakfast, 
and  they  will  testify  to  the  truth  of  my 
words." 

Ellen  had  become  deadly  pale  during 
this  short  conversation,  and  an  acute 
pain  contracted  the  muscles  of  her  face. 

"  Ellen,  Ellen,  your  husband's  beha- 
vior is  unwarrantable,  but  I  shall  humil- 
iate him,  I  shall  —  " 

"Augusta,  there  must  be  some  mis- 
understanding," said  Ellen  anxiously ; 
"  they  have  misconstrued  his  words." 

"  Misconstrued  ?  "  said  the  Baron  ; 
"  they  could  not  be  understood  in  more 
than  one  way." 

"  Yes,  they  could,"  answered  Uno  se- 
riously ;  "  for  the  words  which  escaped 
Ochard  were  uttered  while  his  brain  was 
heated  with  wine,  and  what  a  man  says 
at  such  a  moment  no  thinking  person 
allows  himself  to  repeat."  The  Baron 
colored  at  this  rebuke.  "  I  can  besides 
take  the  responsibility  of  declaring  that 
the  Baroness  has  no  reason  to  be  dis- 
quieted ;  for  if  Ochard,  in  his  hilarious 
state  of  mind,  has  been  inconsiderate  in 
his  utterance,  I  know  him  sufficiently 
well  to  feel  sure  that  he  will  to-morrow 
take  back  the  precipitate  words." 

"  Precipitate  1 "  exclaimed  the  Baron- 
ess. "  This  is  not  a  question  of  precipi- 
tation, but  of  an  untruth  which  he  has 
uttered  ;  and  I  assure  you,  Count,  that 
I  shall  certainly  force  him  to  acknowledge 
that  it  is  so." 

"Allow  me  to  make  a  remark.  If  a 
woman  forces  a  man  in  her  presence  to 
take  back  what  he  has  said  about  her,  it 
does  not  prove  that  he  has  uttered  an 
xintruth,  but  only  that  he,  from  politeness, 
would  rather  admit  himself  a  liar,  than 
forget  the  respect  which  every  well-bred 
man  owes  to  a  lady.  But  if  he,  on  the 
contrary,  in  her  absence,  retractshis  words, 
then  he  has  in  this  act  acknowledged 


that  his  assertion  was  false.  Had  the 
Baron  been  a  little  older  and  more  ac- 
customed to  associate  with  men,  he 
woflld  not  have  forgotten  himself  so  far 
as  to  repeat  a  few  thoughtless  words  to 
his  sister-in-law  before  he  had  heard 
Ochard  take  them  back,  which  he  would 
certainly  have  done  after  the  eifects  of 
the  wine  had  subsided ;  this  no  one  who 
knows  the  chivalry  which  characterizes 
Ochard's  whole  behavior  can  well  doubt*" 

A  pause  ensued.  Ellen  looked  at  Uno 
with  an  expression  of  warm  gratitude. 

"  Eli  bien  !  let  us  wait  for  to-morrow," 
exclaimed  the  Baroness,  gayly  ;  "  but 
beware,  Count,  if  you  have  taken  his 
part  and  it  is  shown  that  he  is  unworthy 
your  sympathy,  for  then  my  anger  wiH 
also  fall  on  you." 

"  I  will  submit  to  it  in  the  full  con- 
sciousness of  having  to-day  spoken  ac*- 
cording  to  my  conviction." 

"  Good  !  as  .the  road  has  begun  to  be 
too  narrow  for  four,  I  beg  Ellen  to  ex- 
cuse me  if  I  take  my  cavalier  with  me 
and  form  the  advance  guard.  I  feel  a 
great  need  of  venting  the  indignation 
which  burns  within  me  on  somebody,  and 
who  ought  to  be  the  scapegoat  in  my 
husband's  absence  if  not  his  brother  1 " 

The  Baroness  and  Baron  Alfred  urged 
their  horses  forward  a  few  yards  and 
then  allowed  them  to  take  a  more  mod- 
erate pace.  From  the  lively  manner  in 
which  the  Baroness  moved  her  head,  one 
could  conclude  that  she  reprimanded  her 
young  brother-in-law  in  good  earnest. 

Ellen  and  Uno  had  been  left  a  long 
way  behind,  and  the  servant  rode  at  a 
distance.  Ellen  broke  the  silence,  — 

"  Thanks  for  the  friendly  way  in  which 
you  took  Evert's  part,"  said  she  in  an 
almost  shy  voice. 

"  I  saw  how  much  you  suffered,  and  I 
wished,  at  whatever  price,  to  make  the 
affair  less  unpleasant  for  you.  I  had  on 
my  conscience  a  wrong  which  I  had  com- 
mitted against  you,  and  for  which  I  de- 
sired to  make  reparation."  «• 


82 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN 


"  Wrong  !  "  repeated  Ellen  in  an  un- 
steady voice. 

"Yes  !  I  abandoned  you  when  you 
were  deeply  troubled  ....  I  am  a  poor 
friend,  I  fear ;  and  yet  I  would  so  gladly 
serve  you,  so  gladly  be  to  you  in  a  broth- 
er's place.  But  we  are  not  always  what 
we  would  be." 

Again  there  was  a  pause.  Ellen  felt 
grateful  to  Uno  for  not  speaking  of  her 
husband. 

"  Tell  me  frankly,  have  you  been  vexed 
with  me  for  my  scarcely  friendly  beha- 
vior 1 " 

"Yes,  vexed,  that  is  the  right  word," 
answered  Ellen ;  "  I  was  vexed,  but  not 
with  you.  I  only  felt  that  your  friend- 
ship was  not  like  mine." 

"  And  wherein  lies  the  difference  1 " 

"You  become  easily  displeased  with 
me,  are  shocked  at  all  my  faults,  and  feel 
angry  because  I  am  not  free  from  them. 
I  know  that  you  have  faults,  I  perceive 
them,  but  never  make  them  the  object 
of  search.  I  know  that  you  have  a  noble 
heart,  that  you  are  a  man  who,  with  a 
stern  sense  of  honor  comprehend  your 
own  duty  and  that  of  others,  being  strict 
with  yourself,  while  you  are  indulgent 
towards  all  others  but  me.  I  like  you 
on  account  of  these  good  qualities,  with- 
out feeling  provoked  because  you  are  not 
an  ideal." 

"I  acknowledge  the  justice  of  your 
mild  censure,  and  yet  I  think  I  can  de- 
clare that  my  friendship  for  you  is  far 
stronger  than  that  which  you  entertain 
for  me." 

"  I  do  not  think  so.  You  men  believe 
that  you  cherish  friendship,  when  in  real- 
ity you  are  only  amused  by  the  one  whom 
you  call  your  friend.  You  willingly  talk 
with  a  person  whose  conversation  enter- 
tains you,  and  you  consider  yourself  to  be 
that  person's  friend;  but  it  only  needs  some 
other  to  awaken  your  interest  in  a  still 
higher  degree,  and  the  former  friend  is 
nothing  to  you.  We,  on  the  other  hand, 
are  attracted  to  some  moral  quality,  a 


noble  deed,  an  evidence  of  a  true  sense 
of  honor,  of  real  love  for  humanity,  of 
elevated  thought ;  these  are  the  basis  of 
our  friendship  ! " 

"  Do  you  give  woman's  love  the  same 
foundation  1 " 

"  No,  not  always  ;  it  is  only  necessary 
to  strike  some  chord  in  our  nature  which 
sets  the  fancy  in  play,  which  transports 
it,  and  the  poor  heart  follows." 

"  But  are  you  entitled  to  judge  of  that 
which  concerns  love  ?  Have  you  ever 
loved,  or  can  you  even  comprehend  what 
love  is  1 " 

Uno  would  have  given  a  good  deal  if 
he  had  been  able  to  look  in  Ellen's  heart 
at  this  moment  and  there  read  the  an- 
swer to  his  question.  But  the  searching 
glance  was  in  vain.  He  could  not  even 
see  her  eyes,  for  they  were  lowered.  She 
replied  quite  calmly,  — 

"  How  can  you  ask  me  such  a  question, 
when  you  know  that  I  married  from 
love?" 

Uno  spurred  his  horse,  causing  him  to 
spring  forward.  Then  he  said, — 

"  The  Baroness  seems  to  be  giving  her 
brother-in-law  a  good  scolding." 

They  talked  awhile  about  indifferent 
things,  and  soon  joined  their  companions. 
After  resting  in  a  beautiful  spot,  they  all 
returned  home.  On  coming  to  a  place 
where  the  road  narrowed,  Ellen  spurred 
her  horse  and  said  to  Augusta,  with  a 
smile,  — 

"  Now  it  is  our  turn  to  form  the  ad- 
vance guard." 

When  they  had  gone  a  little  way 
ahead  of  the  others,  Uno  said,  — 

"You  wished  to  tell  me  something?  " 

"Yes,  but  I  find  difficulty  in  clothing 
it  in  words." 

"  In  spite  of  your  friendship  for  me  1" 

"Yes,  in  spite  of  it,  I  am -in  embarrass- 
ment." 

"  It  concerns  your  husband.  Have  I 
guessed  right  ? " 

"  Perfectly  !  I  desire  that  you  may 
not  say  anything  to  him  with  regard  to 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAK 


83 


the  words  which  he  dropped  concerning 
the  Baroness."  There  was  something  so 
beseeching  in  look  and  voice,  that  Uno's 
heart  was  softened,  while  he  thought 
with  bitter  indignation  how  little  Ochard 
knew  how  to  value  his  good  fortune  in 
possessing  Ellen  for  a  wife. 

"  The    most    insignificant    desire    of 
yours  is  a  law  to  me,"  replied  Uno. 

"  Thanks  !  " 

"  But  remember  that  the  Baroness  has 
a  right  to  demand  satisfaction." 

"  She  shall  have  it,  and  you  shall  not 
have  defended  him  in  vain.  Believe  me, 
he  deserves  the  good  opinion  which  you 
entertain  of  him." 

"  He,  and  he  alone,  always  takes  up 
your  whole  soul.  You  are  an  admirable 
wife,  Ellen,  and  I  would  rather  die  than 
live  to  see  the  day  when  you  ceased  to 
be  what  you  now  are." 

He  spoke  sincerely.  He  had  too  fresh 
and  uncorrupted  a  heart  to  be  able 
to  love  any  one  whom  he  did  not  es- 
teern. 

"  I  am  a  very  imperfect  wife,"  an- 
swered Ellen,  who  felt  so  calm,  so  happy 
from  his  words,  "  and  I  need  all  my  hus- 
band's indulgence." 

The  road  widened  again  and  they 
could  now  ride  abreast. 

When  the  horses  stopped  before  the 
gate,  Uno  jumped  off  his  and  hastened 
to  lift  Ellen  down.  For  a  moment  violent 
feelings  stirred  in  his  breast,  and  he  felt 
an  irresistible  desire  to  press  her  to  his 
heart.  But  his  will  was  stronger  than 
his  passion,  and  he  lifted  her  from  the 
saddle  without  even  his  arm's  trembling. 


"  I  shall  leave  at  about  twelve  o'clock," 
said  Evert  to  his  wife  the  following  morn- 
ing. 

"  But  before  this  you  have  a  mistake 
to  rectify,  a  scandal  to  avert,"  replied  El- 
len, and  proceeded  to  relate  what  Baron 
Alfred  had  mentioned  to  the  Baroness,  as 


well  as  the  latter's  determination  to  force 
Evert  to  take  back  what  he  had  said  be- 
fore the  whole  company,  if  he  did  not  do 
it  of  himself.  Evert  fell  into  a  passion, 
burst  out  against  the  Baron,  and  would 
not  hear  of  such  a  thing  as  retracting  his 
words.  But  Ellen  took  his  hand,  telling 
him  how  all,  even  those  who  had  heard 
his  words,  would  approve  such  a  course, 
and  that  he  would  be  honored  for  it. 
The  Baroness  herself  would  be  compelled 
to  forgive  him.  Ellen  tried  to  excite  hia 
vanity,  so  that  it  should  induce  him  to 
act  according  to  the  requirements  of 
honor,  and  she  firjally  succeeded ;  he 
conducted  her  down  to  the  saloon,  while 
he  considered  the  effect  of  what  he  was 
forced  to  do.  All  the  merry  guests  who 
had  been  at  the  breakfast  the  day  before 
surrounded  him  to  express  their  thanks 
for  the  pleasant  occasion  ;  among  their 
number  were  the  young  Baron  Ernstein 
and  Uno. 

"  I  certainly  beli'eve  that  Count  Ker- 
ner  is  in  the  wrong,"  thought  Baron  Al- 
fred ;  "  he  is  not  likely  to  take  back  what 
he  has  once  said." 

11  Let  us  see  if  Ellen  has  succeeded  in 
inducing  that  fool  to  act  like  an  honora- 
ble man,"  thought  Uno. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Ochard  in  a  loud 
voice.  "  Wine  sometimes  tempts  us  in  a 
merry  company  to  utter  things  which  are 
only  the  offspring  of  our  heated  imagina- 
tions. I  was  guilty  of  such  an  error  yes- 
terday, when  I  spoke  in  a  manner  not  at 
all  in  accordance  with  the  truth,  of  a 
lady  for  whom  I  entertain  the  greatest 
respect  and  admiration.  I  now  there- 
fore recall  my  words,  and.  declare  that  I 
talked  at  random ;  and  I  desire  that 
you,  gentlemen,  may  consider  them  un- 
said." 

By  nature  a  very  good  actor,  Evert 
had  assumed  so  noble  a  bearing  and  car- 
ried his  handsome  head  with  so  much 
spirit,  that  his  speech  made  a  very  fa- 
vorable impression,  for  e"very  one  regard- 
ed his  conduct  as  an  evidence  of  mag- 


84 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


nanimity.  Still,  there  was  not  one  of 
these  young  gentlemen  who  did  not  hold 
to  the  belief  that  the  Baroness  was  in 
love  with  Ochard.  They  had  too  poor 
an  opinion  of  women  in  general  to  give 
credence  to  anything  but  what  was  de- 
rogatory to  the  sex.  Besides,  they  were 
endowed  with  too  high  an  opinion  of 
their  own  worth  to  admit  that  Ochard's 
boast  was  altogether  groundless. 


Three  weeks  had  elapsed  since  the  oc- 
currence described  above.  People  had 
bathed,  danced,  and  arranged  pleasure- 
parties. 

Ellen  had  spent  every  day  with  Uno. 
He  was  the  tenderest  brother,  the  most 
respectful  friend,  and  the  most  agreeable 
society  for  the  young  woman.  His  man- 
ifold acquirements,  the  freshness  of  his 
feelings,  his  noble  and  uncorrupted  char- 
acter, were  revealed  in  this  daily  inter- 
course. Ellen  felt  happy,  and  she  ap- 
peared more  lively  and  interested  than 
she  was  wont  to  be.  The  Baroness,  who 
resided  with  her,  was  also  especially  en- 
tertained by  Uno's  society.  Time  fled 
like  a  dream,  and  Ellen  fancied,  during 
this  brief  period  of  pure  and  unalloyed 
joy,  that  nature  had  become  more  beauti- 
ful, that  life  had  obtained  for  her  a  new, 
hitherto  unknown  charm,  and  that  God's 
goodness  was  greater  than  before.  Still, 
this  happy  time  was  very  short.  Ellen 
resembled  a  child  who  reposes  by  an 
abyss,  but  does  not  perceive  the  dark 
gulf,  for  the  flowers  which  surround  it. 
She  enjoyed  life,  thanked  God  most  fer- 
vently for  the  feeling  of  satisfaction  that 
filled  her  breast,  and  did  not  notice  the 
danger.  But  chance  was  to  snatch  the 
bandage  quite  suddenly  from  her  eyes 
and  put  her  strength  of  soul  to  a  severe 
test. 

One  evening,  after  supper,  the  Baron- 
ess, Ellen,  Uno,  and  a  German  doctor, 
who  was  spending  a  few  days  at  ***, 


took  a  promenade  to  the  beach.  The 
weather  was  clear  and  the  wind  blew 
fresh.  The  Baroness  and  the  doctor, 
who  were  engaged  in  an  animated  conver- 
sation, so  hastened  their  steps  that  they 
were  soon  far  ahead  of  Ellen  and  Uno. 
On  reaching  the  shore  Uno's  attention 
was  fastened  on  an  object  out  at  sea, 
while  Ellen  continued  the  subject  they 
had  begun,  without  observing  that  his 
answers  became  more  and  more  brief. 
Finally  he  stopped,  saying  as  he  stretched 
out  his  hand  towards  the  sea,  — 

"  See,  Ellen,  how  that  little  boat  strug- 
gles with  the  waves." 

Ellen's  eyes  followed  the  direction  of 
his  hand.  In  a  little  boat  she  saw  a  sol- 
itary woman,  apparently  old,  who  was 
rowing  towards  the  land  with  all  her 
power ;  but  the  little  bark  seemed  rather 
to  recede  from  the  force  of  the  wind, 
than  to  advance.  Sometimes  the  wo- 
man leaned  her  face  against  the  hands 
which  held  the  oars,  as  if  she  had  wept 
over  her  impotent  efforts. 

"  Ah,  good  God !  she  will  certainly 
never  be  able  to  row  to  land,"  said  Ellen, 
and  followed  all  the  motions  of  the  little 
boat  with  anxiety. 

"  So  it  looks,  especially  as  the  wind  in- 
creases." Uno  looked  around  to  see  if 
there  was  not  some  one  in  the  vicinity 
whom  he  could  ask  to  assist  the  poor  wo- 
man ;  but  he  discovered  no  one,  only  a 
little  skiff  which  lay  swinging  by  the 
strand. 

"  Ellen,  return  home,  for  you  will  not 
be  able  to  catch  up  with  the  Baroness. 
I  will  help  the  old  woman."  While  Uno 
spoke  he  had  sprung  down  to  the  beach 
and  into  the  boat.  Ellen  stood  still. 
"  Go,  Ellen,  go  j  it  blows  cold,"  cried 
he,  and  unfastened  the  boat ;  but  she 
remained  motionless. 

He  was  soon  far  from  land  and  rowing 
rapidly  towards  the  woman.  As  he  ad- 
vanced he  was  equally  driven  by  the 
waves,  and  Ellen  followed  with  unshaken 
attention  all  the  motions  of  the  frail 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


85 


craft.  She  dared  not  breathe  ;  it  was  as 
if  her  whole  existence  had  depended  on 
the  skiff's  movements,  so  much  anxiety 
lay  in  the  look  with  which  she  followed 
it.  The  wind  had  increased  during  the 
few  moments  which  had  elapsed  since 
Uno  pushed  off,  so  that  the  waves  rolled 
forward  crested  with  foam.  At  last  he 
reached  the  old  woman  and  with  a  rasli 
leap  transferred  himself  to  her  boat. 
Then  he  took  the  oars  and  began  to  row 
towards  the  shore  with  all  his  might. 
Ellen  had  pressed  both  hands  to  her  heart 
to  still  its  beating  when  he  sprang  from 
the  skiff  into  the  boat,  and  she  could  not 
see  but  what  both  he  and  the  woman 
would  become  the  prey  of  the  waves.  It 
was  arduous  work,  for  they  had  a  con- 
trary wind  ;  but  after  a  half-hour's  hard 
rowing  they  touched  the  shore.  Ellen 
sprang  down  the  slope,  and  when  Uno 
jumped  from  the  boat,  she  reached  him 
both  hands  with  the  words,  — 

"  Merciful  heavens,  what  fearful  anx- 
iety I  have  endured !  Had  the  boat 
upset,  my  heart  would  have  burst." 

Uno  seized  the  two  hands  that  were 
extended  to  him  and  faltered  in  a  voice 
full  of  emotion  and  passion,  — 

"  0  Ellen,  beloved,  adored  Ellen,  why 
am  I  not  allowed  to  die  in  this  moment 
of  bliss  !  " 

Uno  had  once  desired  to  be  able  to 
read  Ellen's  heart.  Now,  when  their 
eyes  met,  when  hers  rested  on  him  with 
so  enchanting  an  expression,  he  seemed 
to  see  his  wish  realized.  The  two 
looked  at  each  other  for  some  moments, 
as  if  fearing  to  break  the  spell  with 
words.  The  old  woman's  voice  close  by 
roused  them.  Ellen  started  as  if  she 
had  awoke  from  a  dream,  blushed,  and 
drew  away  her  hands.  Uno  turned  with 
a  sigh  to  the  woman,  who  exhausted 
herself  in  blessing  him. 

Directly  afterwards  they  heard  the 
Baroness's  voice  ;  she  had  turned  back 
with  the  German  doctor  when  she  at 
last  missed  them.  It  blew  hard,  and 


they  took  their  way  home.  As  Ellen 
and  Uno  were  going  up  the  bank,  he 
said  with  that  peculiar  accent  which 
only  love  can  bestow,  "  Take  my  arm, 
Ellen."  He  bent  down  to  catch  one 
more  glance.  Ellen  laid  her  hand  on 
his  arm  and  looked  at  him ;  but  her 
eyes  were  obscured  with  tears. 

Uno  was  now  obliged  to  relate  his 
adventure  to  the  Baroness,  but  not  a 
word  more  was  exchanged  between  him 
and  Ellen.  At  parting  he  released  her 
hand  with  a  lingering  motion. 

When  Ellen  had  separated  from  the 
Baroness  and  shut  herself  up  in  her 
chamber,  she  fell  on  her  knees.  With 
her  hands  clasped  tightly  and  her  head 
leaning  against  them,  she  wept,  wept 
from  the  depth  of  her  heart,  while  with 
fervent  devotion  she  prayed  to  God  for 
strength  to  rightly  make  up  the  account 
with  herself  and  to  gain  the  victory  over 
her  weak,  rebellious  heart. 

How  mmch  had  not  these  hours  which 
had  passed  since  she  left  home  contained 
for  her  !  What  a  fearful  light  had  not 
the  events  at  the  strand  thrown  over 
her  inner  being  and  the  feelings  she 
cherished  for  Uno  !  While  with  bound- 
less anxiety  she  followed  the  motions  of 
the  boat,  it  had  become  clear  to  her  that 
the  frail  bark  bore  a  man  who  was  so 
dear  to  her  heart  that  she  would  will- 
ingly have  saved  his  life  with  the  sacri- 
fice of  her  own.  And  then  when  he 
stood  there  before  her,  when  she  again, 
met  his  glance,  again  felt  her  hands 
clasped  in  his,  how  thankful  to  God,  how 
unspeakably  happy  had  she  not  been  ! 
This  anguish,  this  joy,  seemed  to  say  to 
her  with  a  merciless  voice,  "You  love 
him." 

Ellen  could  have  sunk  into  the  dust 
at  this  thought.  She,  who  had  only 
striven  toward  one  aim,  that  of  conscien- 
tiously fulfilling  her  duty  to  her  hus- 
band, was  now  in  her  heart  a  faithless 
wife.  None  but  those  who  revere  duty 
as  deeply  as  she  did  can  understand  her 


86 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


grief  nnd  remorse  when  she  knelt  before 
Cod  and  wept  over  herself. 

"  Shall  everything  then  fail  me  !  "  she 
sobbed,  "  even  my  own  heart  ]  Domes- 
tic happiness,  my  hutband's  love,  —  all 
is  denied  me ;  shall  I  also  lose  respect  for 
myself]" 

She  did  not  try  to  excuse  herself  to  her 
accusing  conscience  by  any  false  reason- 
ing. She  did  not  draw  up  her  husband's 
faults  as  an  apology  for  herself.  She 
did  not  reproach  him  for  having  thought- 
lessly abandoned  her  to  danger.  She 
did  not  think  of  his  indifference  to  ex- 
tenuate her  own  fault.  No,  she  accused 
no  one  but  herself.  With  her  thoughts 
fastened  only  on  her  own  weakness,  she 
made  up  the  account  with  herself ;  and 
without  being  tempted  for  a  single  mo- 
ment by  the  infatuating  delusion  that 
her  silent,  apparently  guiltless  love  hurt 
nobody,  she  resolved  to  fly  a  danger 
which  she  felt  that  her  heart  was  not 
strong  enough  to  resist.  Not  an  instant's 
happiness  would  she  purchase  at  the 
expense  of  her  duty.  A  felicity  at  this 
price  would  have  been  changed  to  an 
eternally  gnawing  remorse. 


The  next  day  Ellen  was  not  seen  at 
the  baths.  Uno  had  presented  himself 
to  inquire  after  her  health,  while  he  con- 
stantly repeated  to  himself,  — • 

"  I  must  from  her  own  lips  hear  the 
words,  '  I  love  you,'  and  then,  —  then  I 
will  fly  far  hence." 

When  he  came  to  Ellen's  abode,  Ingrid 
told  him  that  her  mistress  was  ill.  The 
physician  said  that  she  had  taken  cold. 

A  week  elapsed,  during 'which  Ellen 
was  obliged  to  keep  within  doors. 

One  Sunday  morning  the  Baroness  in- 
formed Uno  that  Ellen  was  better,  and 
that  she  would  in  the  afternoon  be  pres- 
ent at  the  coffee-party  to  which  one  of 
the  ladies  had  invited  the  whole  com- 
pany. 


When  Ellen  and  the  Baroness  stepped 
out  to  go  to  the  saloon,  Uno  came  to- 
wards them.  He  only  saw  Ellen.  With 
an  animation  which  reflected  all  that  his 
heart  felt,  he  went  to  her  and  said,  aa 
he  greeted  her  with  an  expression  of  ad- 
miration, joy,  love,  and  respect,  — 

"  I  shall  never  forgive  myself  for  hav- 
ing been  the  cause  of  your  indisposition, 
and  yet  I  cannot  regret  an  event  which 
afforded  me  —  " 

"An  opportunity  to  help  a  creature 
who  without  you  would  have  been  lost," 
fell  in  Ellen  in  a  somewhat  unsteady 
voice. 

Uno  walked  a  moment  in  silence  by 
her  side ;  then  he  began  to  talk  on  in- 
different subjects  with  an  expression  of 
gladness  which  was  very  rare  with 
him. 

After  drinking  coffee  in  the  saloon,  the 
party  had  a  little  music,  and  then  spread 
themselves  in  small  groups  in  the  park. 
Ellen,  who  was  fatigued  and  disposed  to 
be  quiet,  had  seated  herself  on  one  of  the 
small  sofas  in  the  saloon.  Uno  ap- 
proached her. 

"  So  pale  and  so  sad  1  I  for  my  part 
know  no  bounds  to  my  joy  at  seeing  you 
again." 

Ellen  shuddered  and  would  have  stifled 
the  violent  beating  of  her  heart. 

"During  the  days  in  which  I  have 
been  separated  from  you,  Ellen,  but  one 
memory  has  followed  me,  —  that  of  the 
moment  when  yon  met  me  on  the  beach. 
0  Ellen,  when  shall  that  moment  come 
again  1 " 

"  Never  ! "  whispered  she.  t 

"  You  cannot  be  so  cruel.  Look  at 
me,  Ellen,  and  say  that  the  love  which 
has  dwelt  yi  the  depths  of  my  heart  for 
so  many  years  deserves  some  consolation. 
Hear  me,  Ellen.  I  shall  not  leave  you 
until  your  lips  have  confirmed  what  your 
look  told  me.  I  must  hear  from  you 
three  words,  —  three  words." 

"  Hush,  Uno  !  "  She  rose  and  offered 
him  her  hand,  as  she  said  with  a  sorrow- 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


87 


ful  smile,  "  To-morrow  I  will  explain 
myself."  With  this  she  went  away. 

"  To-morrow,"  said  Uno  exultingly, 
—  "to-morrow!" 

The  morning  came  with  a  sky  so  gray 
and  a  fog  so  thick,  that  one  fancied  the 
very  atmosphere  breathed  sorrow.  But 
to  Uno  this  gray  sky  seemed  clear  and 
smiling,  this  air  sweet  and  warm,  for  he 
awoke  with  the  hope  of  having  his  high- 
est desire  fulfilled.  How  it  would  be 
afterwards,  he  did  not  think.  The  ex- 
pected explanation  was  all  to  him.  He 
had  just  begun  to  dress  himself,  when 
the  servant  handed  him  a  letter.  The 
address  told  him  from  whom  it  was. 

He  opened  it  and  read :  — 

"  Once  you  said,  when  you  offered  me 
your  friendship  :  '  You  shall  never  have 
cause  to  regret  the  friendship  which  you 
now  give  me.'  Have  you  kept  this  prom- 
ise ?  Ought  I  not  now  bitterly  to  de- 
plore the  moment  when  we  became 
friends  1  Lay  your  hand  on  your  own 
upright  heart  and  answer  the  question. 

"At  another  time  you  said,  'It  has 
often  pained  me  when  I  reflected  that 
you  could  believe  me  capable  of  so  des- 
picable an  act  as  to  speak  to  a  married 
woman  of  love.'  .You  have  now  been 
guilty  of  such  an  act. 

"  My  husband  intrusted  his  wife  to 
you.  Will  you,  with  your  stern  ideas 
of  honor,  betray  this  trust  1  The  Uno 
who  was  my  friend,  who  stood  high  in 
my  esteem,  will  not  be  guilty  of  such  a 
crime.  He  will  revere  the  woman  who 
rendered  him  her  respect,  her  confidence, 
and  her  friendship.  Passion  will  never 
tempt  him  to  forget  what  he  owes  his 
own  honor,  the  absent  husband,  and  the 
married  woman. 

"  Once  you  said,  '  Ellen,  you  are  an 
admirable  wife  ;  I  do  not  wish  to  live  to 
the  day  when  I  find  you  otherwise.'  And 
yet  you  begged  me  yesterday  to  acknowl- 
edge that  I  loved  you,  that  my  heart  had 
failed  of  its  duty  and  betrayed  the  mate 


to  whom  I  swore  eternal  faith  at  the 
altar.  If  I  fulfilled  your  prayer,  should 
I  then  be  an  admirable  wife?  No,  I 
should  be  a  contemptible  perjurer,  who 
trampled  respect  for  her  duty  under  her 
feet,  and  no  time  and  no  conditions 
would  have  been  able  to  efface  this  stain 
upon  my  life.  Now  I  have  said  all  that 
I  have  to  say ;  for  the  rest,  when  you 
have  awakened  from  the  delirium  which 
misled  you,  your  own  heart  will  tell  you 
what  you  have  come  near  forgetting. 

"  One  single  prayer  has  Ellen  to  her 
friend  Uuo,  and  she  knows  that  he  will 
fulfil  it.  Do  not  try  to  see  me  for  sev- 
eral days.  Take  a  trip  to  X or  any 

other  place  around  here,  or  keep  within 
doors.  This  banishment  or  imprison- 
ment shall  be  short,  but  Ellen  will  feel 
grateful  for  such  a  compliance  with  her 
request. 

"  And  now  farewell !  The  memory  of 
friend  Uno  shall  always  be  faithfully  pre- 
served by 

"  ELLEN." 

Uno  sat  motionless  a  long  time;  a 
tear  shone  in  his  eye,  and  he  carried 
Ellen's  letter  to  his  lips. 

"  0,  how  could  I  for  a  moment  think 
that  she  should  act  otherwise,  noble; 
high-minded  woman  !  May  God  preserve 
me  from  wishing  to  stain  your  snow- 
white  wings  !  "  He  again  read  through 
this  letter,  so  mild  and  yet  so  earnest. 
Then  he  wrote  :  — 

"  Thanks,  angel !  I  shall  ever  remem- 
ber you  as  the  noblest  woman  I  have 
known.  I  will  obey  you  and  remain  in 
my  room  until  Ellen  releases  me  from 
captivity.  Forget  everything  which  bears 
witness  that  I  have  forgotten  the  prom- 
ise I  gave,  —  to  be  an  honest  and  faith- 
ful friend. 

"But  I  also  have  a  prayer  to  Ellen,  the 
only  one  which  I  shall  ever  address  to 
her  :  sing  this  evening  the  ballad  which 
you  sang  at  Lb'da ;  sing  it  after  all  have 
retired  and  before  you  close  your  win- 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


dows.  Ellen,  this  is  all  that  I  will  ask 
of  you  in  this  life  !  Show  this  single 
proof  of  good-will  to  your  friend 

"  UNO." 

In  the  afternoon  the  heavens  cleared, 
the  sun  sank  in  a  bed  of  purple ;  the 
queen  of  night,  with  her  invisible  mantle 
and  starry  diadem,  had  embraced  the 
earth,  upon  which  everything  was  now 
still  and  quiet.  All  seemed  to  be  deep  in 
slumber  at  ***,  only  a  solitary  being 
stood  leaning  motionless  against  a  tree 
by  the  house  where  Ellen  and  the  Bar- 
oness resided,  and  where  the  windows 
still  stood  open.  He  was  pale,  this  lone- 
ly figure,  who  with  an  expression  of  an- 
guish seemed  to  be  waiting  for  something. 
Suddenly  the  silence  was  broken  by  a 
song  from  Ellen's  dwelling.  It  was  like 
a  spirit  whisper  from  a  better  world. 
The  invisible  singer  sang  each  verse 
twice,  and  "the  song,  it  flew  over  the 
waves,"  and  everything  again  became 
silent  both  within  and  without  the  iso- 
lated house. 


Two  days  afterwards  Uno  received  the 
following  note  :  — 

"  Uno,  you  are  free ;  your  captivity  has 
ceased,  I  am  now  gone.  I  know  that  you 
will  not  see  me  again  until  you  can  do  it 
with  perfect  calmness.  In  two  days  I 
shall  be  with  my  husband.  Your  friend, 

"ELLEN." 

"  Gone,  gone  !  "  exclaimed  Uno  spring- 
ing up.  "  I  know  that  you  will  not  see 
me  again,  until  you  can  do  it  calmly," 
repeated  he.  "0  Ellen,  Ellen  !  the  poor 
happiness  of  seeing  you  ought  still  to 
have  been  granted  me  !  " 


One   beautiful    morning  towards   the 
d  of  July,  two  days  after  Uno  had  re- 


ceived the  above-mentioned  note,  Assess- 
or Ochard  stood  tying  his  cravat  before 
the  glass.  He  tied  it  certainly  for  the 
twentieth  time,  for  he  could  not  get  it 
to  suit  him.  Just  as  he  had  succeeded 
in  his  efforts,  and  with  a  self-satisfied 
look  fastened  his  vest,  the  door-curtains 
were  lifted  and  a  tastefully  attired  lady 
entered.  Evert,  who  in  the  glass  saw  a 
lady  come  in,  turned  round,  and  ex- 
claimed when  his  eyes  fell  on  her  face,  — 

"  Ellen  !  Good  God,  what  does  this 
mean  1 " 

She  hastened  to  her  husband,  and 
reached  out  her  arms  to  him. 

"  Yes,  it  is  Ellen,  who  was  obliged  to 
return  to  you." 

"  You  have  thus  longed  for  me,  is  it 
not  so  1 "  said  Evert,  and  embraced  his 
wife  very  carefully,  so  as  not  to  wrinkle 
his  shirt-bosom.  "  But,  my  dear  Ellen, 
however  flattering  it  may  be  to  have 
you  long  for  me  so  ardently,  I  am  still 
very  sorry  that  you  left  ***  in  this  pre- 
cipitate way.  What  will  people  say 
about  so  sudden  a  departure?  They 
will  try  to  guess  the  cause,  and  you  ex- 
pose us  both  to  a  multitude  of  construc- 
tions which  it  would  have  been  wiser  of 
you  to  avoid  by  remaining  till  the  end 
of  the  season." 

"  Ah,  Evert,  believe  me  when  I  assure 
you  with  my  hand  on  my  heart,  that  I 
neither  would  nor  could  stay." 

There  was  something  so  mild  and  yet 
sad  in  Ellen's  voice  that  it  engaged  his 
attention.  He  looked  at  the  clock. 

"  It  is  very  agreeable  for  me  to  find 
that  I  am  so  dear  to  you,  and  I  shall 
with  the  greatest  pleasure,  when  I  return, 
hear  you  relate  how  tedious  it  was  with- 
out me,  but  at  present  I  am  a  little 
pressed  for  time." 

Ellen  had  taken  off  her  hat  and  man- 
tle and  seated  herself  on  a  little  sofa. 
She  reached  her  hand  to  her  husband. 

"  Come  and  sit  here  with  me,  Evert. 
I  shall  be  contented  again,  if  I  only  see 
that  you  like  me  a  little  bit." 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


89 


Evert  seated  himself,  kissed  Ellen  on 
the  brow,  and  said,  — 

"  But,  my  beloved  wife,  I  am  obliged 

to  be   at  Counsellor  D 's  at   eleven 

o'clock,  so  that  we  have  not  much  m/?re 
than  half  an  hour,  consequently  the  ex- 
change of  tender  sentiments  must  be 
brief.  I  should  not  like  to  present  my- 
self to  the  Counsellor  with  any  traces  of 
emotion,  but  with  a  calmness  and  an  assur- 
ance which  are  in  harmony  with  the  pros- 
pects to  which  I  am  entitled.  Well, 
have  you  had  a  pleasant  time  ?  Your 
letters  seemed  to  show  that  this  was  the 
case.  I  have  had  a  great  deal  to  do ; 
but  I  thought  that  the  government,  at 
the  close  of  the  Diet,  would  reward  my 
services.  Apropos,  you  did  not  travel 
alone  ]  I  suppose  Uno  has  kept  you 
company  1 " 

"No,  he  remained.  I  travelled  with 
Ingrid." 

"  That  was  very  inconsiderate.  You 
ought  to  have  informed  me  of  your 
coming,  so  that  I  could  have  sent 
the  carriage  to  meet  you.  Do  you 
know,  Ellen,  your  journey  here  is  di- 
rectly contrary  to  general  custom,  and  I 
predict  that  people  will  make  remarks 
about  it.  You  ought  to  make  it  a  rule 
never  to  act  without  first  asking  my 
advice." 

"  Evert,"  said  Ellen  seriously,  laying 
her  hand  on  his  arm,  "  it  was  no  longer 
a  question  of  what  people  would  say  ;  it 
was  necessary  for  me  to  see  you  again 
and  in  your  presence  come  into  closer 
relations  with  holy  duties." 

"  My  dear  Ellen,  you  are  very  ro- 
mantic, and  that  to  the  great  detriment 
of  your  reputation  as  a  woman  of  the 
world.  The  duty  which  we  ought  in  the 
first  place  to  observe  is  to  deport  our- 
selves in  such  a  way  that  we  do  not  give 
society  occasion  to  blame  our  actions. 
Then  come  the  private  duties.  There- 
fore I  tell  you  once  more,  that  neither 
love,  longing,  or  anything  whatsoever 
ought  to  have  induced  you  to  travel  here 


post-haste,  without  at  least  having  Uno 
accompany  you  as  a  protector." 

"  But,  has  it  never  occurred  to  you 
that  there  might  be  danger  for  your  wife 
in  commissioning  a  young  man  to  be  her 
constant  attendant  ] " 

"  Bah,  my  dear,  I  have  calculated  it 
all.  I  am  a  born  diplomat.  I  should 
not  be  against  it  at  all  if  Uno  took  a 
lively  fancy  to  you.  When  a  man  is 
governed  by  a  passion  he  is  always  the 
slave  of  the  one  who  excited  this  passion, 
and  Uno  would  in  this  way  serve  my  in- 
terests blindly  by  doing  everything  that 
you  desired." 

"Evert,  Evert!  do  you  not  consider 
the  danger  to  which  you  expose  me  ? " 

"  Not  at  all.  I  am  not  romantic, 
neither  do  I  see  danger  where  none  ex- 
ists. Now,  if  you  were  also  a  little  inter- 
ested in  him  —  Eh  bien,  it  would  be  of  no 
consequence,  as  you  once  for  all  love  me 
and  could  certainly  never  have  the  bad 
taste  to  prefer  a  man  of  his  appearance. 
Such  a  lack  of  discernment  I  would  never 
forgive  you.  Now  I  think  it  excellent 
that  he,  a  noble,  wealthy,  and  courted 
young  man  is  the  first  to  render  my  wife 
homage.  Besides  it  is  the  acquaintance 
with  him  and  his  brother-in-law  upon 
which  I  count  in  order  to  arrive  rapidly 
at  distinction ;  and  I  confess  that  you 
would  have  done  me  a  far  greater  service 
if  you  had  remained,  with  or  without  the 
danger  of  captivating  his  heart,  than  by 
going  away  from  him  in  that  way,  and 
perhaps  through  this  gaining  me  an  en- 
emy in  one  who  I  hoped  would  favor  my 
plans." 

"Evert,  Evert,  is  this  all  that  you 
have  to  say  to  me  1 "  said  Ellen,  sobbing. 

"  My  dear  Ellen,  it  seems  to  me  that 
you  ought  to  be  satisfied  when  I  assure 
you  that  I  feel  flattered  by  your  affection, 
although  I  desire  that  you  may  be  less 
romantic."  Evert  kissed  her  and  then 
looked  at  the  clock.  "  I  must  now  leave 
you.  Efface  the  traces  of  your  tears, 
and  let  us  no  longer  speak  of  this 


90 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


matter.  We  will  sec  each  other  again." 
He  kissed  his  hand  to  her  and  left. 
When  he  stepped  into  his  carriage  he 
thought,  — 

"  I  am  only  afraid  that  Ellen,  fright- 
ened by  some  tender  words  from  Uno, 
has  offended  him.  The  result  of  this 
may  be  that  I  miss  the  star." 

"  0  God  !  thou  wilt  not  abandon  me, 
if  all  others  fail ! "  sighed  Ellen  with 
clasped  hands. 


THE  MOTHER. 

THREE   YEARS   LATER. 

In  Assessor  Ochard's  elegant  bed- 
chamber one  November  afternoon,  Ellen 
sat  beside  a  willow  cradle  which  she 
gently  set  in  motion.  She  leaned  her 
head  on  her  hand  and  regarded  the  little 
sleeping  boy  with  an  expression  of  such 
pure  and  unmixed  happiness,  such 
boundless  love,  that  one  could  read 
plainly  in  her  face  that  she  had  now 
obtained  an  object  upon  which  she  fas- 
tened all  her  feelings,  thoughts,  and 
dreams.  This  face  no  longer  bore  traces 
of  the  unquiet  and  formless  dreams,  or 
the  passive  indifference  which  had  for- 
merly characterized  it.  It  reflected  a  soul 
which  had  ripened  to  the  clearly  defined 
knowledge  that  it  had  a  sacred  and 
precious  destiny  to  fulfil.  It  was  evident 
that  her  heart  no  longer  flagged  from 
weariness  and  longing,  but  with  loud, 
fresh  beats  filled  her  breast  with  the 
happy  consciousness  of  possessing  a  be- 
ing to  love  and  live  for.  She  did  not 
receive  the  dawning  day  with  a  listless 
mind  :  she  knew  that  every  moment  of 
her  life  was  indispensable  to  this  child, 
who  was  her  whole  world. 

There  is  in  the  love  of  a  mother  some- 
thing so  pure,  so  wholly  disinterested, 
that  it  is  like  a  divine  spark  in  the 
human  heart  placed  in  the  midst  of  its 
miserable  and  selfish  desires.  With  what 
ineffable  tenderness  does  not  the  mother 


press  her  child  to  her  heart !  How  com- 
pletely does  she  not  forget  her  own  need 
of  shelter  and  protection,  in  protecting 
and  sheltering  the  little  tender  being 
which  rests  upon  her  breast !  How 
strong  is  she  not  in  her  sacrifices,  how 
unwearied  in  her  efforts  and  her  care ! 
How  patiently  does  she  not  suffer  and 
struggle  for  her  child's  joy  and  future 
happiness  !  She  lays  all  calculation  aside 
when  these  are  concerned.  What  does 
it  signify  to  a  mother  what  she  suffers, 
if  she  can  only  purchase  freedom  from 
suffering  for  her  child  ?  And  this  love, 
so  boundless  and  so  self-denying,  what 
does  it  obtain  in  return  1  Does  the  moth- 
er become  the  most  precious  object  of  the 
grown-up  man  or  woman's  affection  ]  No. 
When  the  child  ripens  to  maturity,  the 
thought  of  the  mother  steps  back  for 
other  feelings  and  interests  which  take 
up  the  young  heart  and  mind ;  and  while 
her  love  is  eternally  the  same,  she  must 
be  thankful  to  destiny  if  it  allows  her  to 
occupy  the  second  or  third  place  in  the 
heart  of  the  grown-up  child.  If  she  is  a 
wise  mother  who  recollects  her  own 
youth,  then  she  will  be  satisfied  and 
contented  with  this  state  of  things,  with- 
out demanding  more  than  can  be  given. 
Ah  !  how  soon  are  not  her  watch  ings, 
her  tears,  and  her  care  forgotten  when 
they  are  no  longer  needed,  and  how  often 
does  it  not  happen  that  she  sees  herself 
neglected  by  the  same  child  for  whom 
she  would  without  hesitation  have  sacri- 
ficed her  life ! 

While  Ellen  rocked  her  little,  scarcely 
two-years-old  boy  to  sleep,  and  with  lov- 
ing tenderness  contemplated  the  sweet, 
blooming  face,  the  door-curtains  were 
lifted  and  Evert  entered.  When  he  saw 
his  wife  sitting  by  the  cradle  he  frowned, 
and  his  countenance,  cloudy  before,  be- 
came at  this  sight  still  more  so. 

"Is  there  no  one  who  can  rock  the 
child,  without  your  making  yourself  a 
child's  nurse  1  I  must  say,  it  has  begun 
to  be  very  pleasant ;  my  house  is  changed 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  YAIN  MAN. 


91 


into  a  great  nursery,  and  it  would  not 
surprise  me  in  the  least  if,  some  fine  day, 
I  saw  you  promenading  in  the  street 
with  the  child  in  your  arms.  It  is  a 
positive  fact  that  you  have  not  the  slight- 
est discrimination  ;  you  follow  your  fancy 
blindly,  without  inquiring  where  it  leads." 

"Dear  Evert,  is  it  not  our  child  to 
whose  care  I  devote  my  life,  and  you, 
surely  do  not  wish  me  to  neglect  itl 
You  yourself  think  so  much  of  the  boy." 
'  "  Yes,  with  the  difference,  that  I  love 
my  child  with  reason,  and  not,  like  you, 
in  a  silly  way.  But  leave  this,  at  least 
for  the  present ;  I  will  take  up  the  sub- 
ject again  directly ;  but  I  desire  you  to 
charge  the  nurse  to  rock  the  boy,  so  that 
I  may  have  the  pleasure  of  talking  with 
you  without  running  the  risk  of  being 
interrupted  by  the  child's  screams  or  by 
coming  and  going.  Will  you  therefore 
step  into  the  cabinet  1 " 

Evert  went  to  the  bell-cord,  pulled  it 
violently,  and  when  Ingrid  entered  he 
said  in  a  commanding  tone,  — 

"  I  do  not  wish  my  wife  to  be  obliged 
to  act  as  child's  nurse,  and  therefore  I 
will  ask  mamsell  to  tell  the  nurse  to  stay 
with  the  child."  With  this  he  left  the 
room. 

Ellen  rose,  fastened  another  look  full 
of  indescribable  tenderness  on  the  sleep- 
ing babe,  then  nodded  to  Ingrid  and 
went  into  the  cabinet,  where  she  found 
her  husband  sitting  on  the  sofa.  She 
went  to  him  with  a  smile  and  passed  her 
hand  caressingly  over  his  curly  hair, 
saying,  - 

"  Well,  here  I  am.  Are  you  going  to 
scold  me  still  more  1  I  hope  you  will 
not ;  I  feel  so  happy  in  the  moments 
when  I  am  allowed  to  be  with  my  child." 

"Dear  Ellen,  forbear  from  caressing 
me,  your  caresses  are  of  no  use.  You 
sacrifice  me  just  as  soon  to  your  egotism, 
and  if  you  are  happy,  then  I  congratu- 
late you.  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I 
cannot  say  the  same." 

"  Evert,  you  are  now  bitter." 


"  Possibly ;  but  when  one  is  unhappy, 
as  I'  am,  he  cannot  always  suppress  his 
feelings  and  look  glad  and  smiling."  He 
sighed. 

"  Has  anything  unpleasant  occurred  ?  " 
"  Unpleasant  ]  Why,  I  have  had  noth- 
ing else  ever  since  you  took  that  silly 
notion  to  play  the  hermit,  only  for  the 
sake  of  tending  the  child  and  never  hav- 
ing it  out  of  your  sight.  What  shall  I 
call  your  behavior  1  You,  a  rich  woman, 
the  wife  of  a  man  whose  merits  have 
raised  him  in  the  community  to  an 
equality  with  noblemen,  you  who  can 
afford  to  pay  for  things,  you  from  some 
romantic  whim  or  other  undertake 
to  nurse  your  child  yourself,  to  withdraw 
from  society  and  change  our  house  into 
a  cloister.  What  do  you  suppose  people 
will  think  of  all  this  1  They  will  say 
that  I  have  not  sufficient  love  for  you  to 
procure  a  nurse ;  that  from  meanness, 
from  indifference,  and  God  knows  what,  I 
allow  you  to  drag  around  with  the  child. 
How  many  women  of  wealth  and  position 
do  you  know  who  make  themselves 
nurses  ?  I  think  you  will  have  difficulty 
to  find  half  a  dozen,  and  not  a  single  one 
with  your  more  weighty  interests,  as  na- 
ture has  made  you  a  poetess  !  But  what 
do  you  care  for  an  illustrious  name  or 
the  renown  of  a  genius  1  Nothing  at  all. 
You  live  for  your  fixed  ideas,  and  among 
these  is  the  notion  that  you  must  be  tied 
to  the  boy.  You  tear  down,  in  your 
simple  comprehension  of  life,  all  that  I 
have  done  to  have  you  regarded  as  a  wo- 
man of  genius,  and  you,  who  rose  like  a 
star,  now  fall  quite  suddenly  to  the 
level  of  a  child's  nurse."  Evert  stopped 
for  breath.  Ellen  said  nothing.  "  But 
now  I  must  declare  emphatically  that  I 
am  tired  of  this  performance,  and  intend 
to  resume  our  former  manner  of  life,  as 
I  think  of  taking  part  in  the  boy's  bring- 
ing up.  Does  it  seem  to  you,  for  example, 
that  he  is  dressed  like  a  rich  man's  child] 
I  wish  the  boy  to  be  so  dressed  as  to 
look  engaging.  Besides,  it  is  my  desire 


92 


THE  WIFE   OP  A  VAIN  MAN. 


that  we  have  a  reception  once  a  week, 
and  parties  as  before.  I  wish  you  to 
show  yourself  again  in  society,  and  to 
divide  your  time  somewhat  between  it 
and  the  child." 

"Can  you  actually  say,  Evert,  that  I 
do  not?  How  glad  and  happy  I  am, 
when  you  are  sometimes  at  home  with 
us,  when  — 

"  Allow  me  to  interrupt  you.  We  do 
not  live  on  your  happiness  and  content- 
ment alone,  but  we  have  also  duties  to- 
wards the  world,  and  I  find  no  reason 
why  a  man  should  be  obliged  to  neglect 
these  for  the  sake  of  his  wife  and  child. 
You  have  now  heard  my  will,  and  I  hope 
that  you  will  conform  yourself  to  it." 

"I  shall  endeavor  to  unite  my  duty 
toward  my  home  with  your  desire,  but 
never  shall  I,  for  any  price  in  the  world, 
neglect  our  child.  I  am  a  mother,  and 
God  has  intrusted  to  my  care  a  child, 
who  will  some  day  become  a  man." 

"And  I  am  certainly  not  likely  to  ask 
you  to  forget  your  duty  as  a  mother ; 
but,  to  begin  with,  I  must  tell  you  that 
I  have  invited  a  few  friends  here  this 
evening,  and  Uno  among  them.  I  de- 
sire you  to  be  particularly  polite  to  him, 
for  I  need  him." 

"  Do  you  need  him  any  longer  1 " 

"  Yes,  I  need  his  influence  and  his  rep- 
utation as  a  wealthy  man,  especially  now, 
as  I  am  seeking  an  office  and  -intend  to 
take  up  a  loan  of  ten  thousand  riks 
thalers,  and  that  from  a  man  who  places 
value  on  Uno's  opinion,  and  who  will 
certainly  inquire  of  him  about  me." 

"Are  you  obliged  to  borrow?  You 
are  surely  jesting." 

"  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  look  at  me 
and  see  if  I  am  jesting  ?  " 

"  But  are  we  then  no  longer  rich  ?  " 

"  0  yes,  you  are,  my  dear ;  but  alas, 
not  I,"  answered  Evert  bitterly.  "Or 
do  you  actually  think  that  one  hundred 
thousand  riks  thalers  is  a  bottomless 
gold  mine,  when  one,  like  me,  is  obliged 
to  live  in  the  world  and  keep  up  appear- 


ances? You,  with  your  imaginative 
mind,  may  think  that  it  does  not  cost 
anything  to  live,  to  keep  a  carriage  and 
horses  and  the  like,  which  my  position 
demands.  If  one  has  then  the  misfortune 
to  have  some  bachelor  debts  to  pay,  and 
besides  this  is  obliged  to  deduct  from  the 
capital  what  an  establishment  such  as 
ours  costs,  you  can  easily  see  that  one 
hundred  thousand  riks  thalers  is  no  in- 
exhaustible treasure." 

"But  Evert,"  replied  Ellen,  "rather 
than  to  borrow  in  this  way  and  through 
this  place  yourself  under  obligation,  you 
could  give  a  mortgage  on  the  house." 

"  Will  you  show  me  the  goodness  nofc 
to  mingle  in  my  affairs  ?  Or  do  you  im- 
agine that  you  can  attend  to  them  better 
than  I  ?  For  the  rest  I  will  not  mort- 
gage the  house.  In  short,  I  must  take 
up  this  loan ;  and  I  intend,  in  case  the 
king  does  not  give  me  the  office  which  I 
am  now  seeking,  to  employ  a  part  of 
this  sum  for  the  publishing  of  an  opposi- 
tion paper.  Everything  will  depend  up- 
on my  nomination." 

"  Evert,  what  do  you  say  ?  Will  you, 
who  have  received  so  many  proofs  of 
favor  from  the  king,  and  been  so  richly 
rewarded  for  all  that  you  have  done, 
will  you,  an  office-holder,  a  Knight  of  the 
North  Star,  a  conservative,  become  a 
turncoat  and  attack  the  same  views 
which  you  formerly  defended?  That 
would  be  ungrateful  and  unworthy  a 
man  of  honor." 

"  My  dear,  the  time  of  kings  is  past. 
The  February  revolution  has  made  them 
unpopular,  eo  that  one  is  entirely  out  of 
the  fashion  if  he  is  a  royalist.  They 
must  therefore  see  to  it  that  they  sup- 
port those  who  served  with  zeal  and 
faithfulness ;  for  in  any  other  event  I 
shall  be  compelled  to  pay  homage  to  the 
revolutionary  principles.  To  appear  as 
their  advocate  would  give  me  greater 
popularity  than  I  should  ever  be  able  to 
reap  in  the  service  of  conservatism." 

"A  man  of  honor  does  not  serve   a 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


93 


cause  from  calculation,  but  from  convic- 
tion, and  I  neither  can  nor  will  think  so 
meanly  of  you  as  to  suppose  that  for  the 
sake  of  winning  popularity  or  any  dis- 
tinction in  the  world,  you  would  wish  to 
sell  yours,  or  betray  the  cause  which  you 
defended,  and  thus  bargain  with  your 
duty  and  your  conscience." 

"  My  dear,  you  do  not  understand  that 
matter ;  I  intend  in  all  cases  to  act  as  I 
please,  and  only  ask  you  to  comply  with 
my  wishes ;  to  begin  with,  in  regard  to 
Uno." 

"But  it  is  just  with  regard  to  him 
that  I  wish  you  to  change  your  plan. 
Why  do  you  need  his  influence  1  If  you 
are  entitled  to  the  appointment  which  you 
wish  to  obtain,  you  can  be  very  sure  that 
you  will  be  nominated,  without  the  need 
of  his  co-operation.  Ah  !  Evert,  it  pains 
me  to  think  that  you,  a  man  of  merit, 
can  be  obliged  to  cringe  to  those  in  high 
places  in  order  to  gain  a  promotion  to 
which  your  deserts  ought  to  entitle  you. 
As  far  as  the  loan  is  concerned,  I  hope  it 
will  be  unnecessary ;  for  as  you  know,.  I 
have  always  desired  that  you  should  re- 
ceive the  interest  of  the  capital  which 
my  mother  left  solely  at  my  disposal. 
Hitherto  you  have  refused,  upon  the 
ground  that  you  did  not  wish  to  have 
anything  of  which  you  had  been  de- 
prived. I  am  likely,  in  consequence  of 
this,  to  have  a  no  inconsiderable  residue 
of  the  interest  remaining  with  merchant 
D .  At  one  time  I  intended  this  lit- 
tle amount  as  a  fund  for  a  children's 
home  ;  but  now  I  desire  and  entreat  you 
to  dispose  of  it,  and  hereafter  to  collect 
the  interest  which  ought  to  be  eventually 
ours." 

"  As  far  as  your  savings  are  concerned, 
I  have  already  drawn  them,  because  I 
was  in  need  of  money  at  our  arrival  in 
the  city.  I  must  consequently  borrow 
from  the  person  I  mentioned ;  I  need 
Uno,  and  it  is  of  importance  to  me  that 
no  one  has  any  suspicion  that  I  am  in  want 
of  money.  Have  you  understood  me  ? " 


"  But  this  money  must  be  paid  back 
some  time1?" 

"  Of  course,  and  I  also  intend  to  do  it ; 
although  I  am  at  present  in  need,  it  does 
not  prove  that  I  am  ruined.  The  rich- 
est man,  my  dear  Ellen,  is  sometimes 
obliged  to  borrow." 

"  Why  not  rather  turn  to  Uncle  Ru- 
bens or  to  Kerner  ? " 

"  Because  I  am  not  disposed  to  hear 
any  remarks.  But  I  do  not  know  why 
we  continue  this  conversation.  You 
have  heard  my  desire  :  comply  with  it." 

"  One  word  more,"  said  Ellen  with  an- 
guish. "I  will  sell  all  my  trinkets,  if 
you  will  only  not  make  debts ;  for  my 
reason  tells  me  that  if  one  begins  to  so- 
licit credit,  it  ends  ill." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  irritate  me,  to 
wound  and  humiliate  me  ]  Now  listen 
once  for  all  to  what  I  say :  I  will  not 
hear  of  any  retrenchments  in  our  way  of 
life  ;  nothing  in  your  attire  or  your  hab- 
its must  be  changed.  You  are  to  con- 
tinue a  rich  man's  wife.  Do  you  now 
understand  that  I  never  can,  never  shall, 
live  otherwise  than  I  have  hitherto  done  1 
I  wish  people  to  see  yoxi  with  these  jew- 
els which  excited  so  much  envy  and  ad- 
miration, and  I  hope  that  I  shall  never 
be  obliged  to  give  this  up.  Spare  me  all 
further  talk  on  this  disagreeable  subject. 
Apropos,  I  desire  you,  as  formerly,  to  col- 
lect the  income  from  your  property,  so 
that  no  one  may  know  that  we  use  it  in 
common  ;  but  you  can  then  give  me  the 
money,  and  in  that  way  it  will  all  be  ar- 
ranged right.  I  really  think  that  I  can 
manage  that  income  better  than  you,  so 
that  it  will  give  an  added  lustre  to  our 
establishment.  On  Monday  we  are  to 
have  a  large  party."  Evert  went  out. 

"  With  borrowed  money,"  murmured 
Ellen.  "  One  day  his  vanity  will  per- 
haps be  our  ruin."  She  sighed  deeply. 
"All  must  be  consumed  then  to  shine 
among  a  crowd  of  fools,  who,  when  mis- 
fortune knocks  at  the  door,  will  fly  us. 
But  I  feel  that  I  shall  now  have  the 


94 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


strength  to  save  my  child's  father  from 
the  abyss  to  which  his  heedless  vanity 
will  sooner  or  later  lead  us." 

In  the  evening  the  rooms  were  lighted, 
and  Ellen  had  just  stepped  into  the  sa- 
loon, when  at  the  same  moment  a  young 
man  was  seen  at  one  of  the  doors.  She 
stopped  a  second  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  but  took  some  steps  directly  to- 
wards the  guest  who  advanced  to  meet 
her.  Both  were  pale.  It  was  over  three 
years  since  they  had  seen  each  other. 
Three  years  !  How  different  Ellen  now 
was  !  How  changed  did  life  appear ! 
What  a  treasure  of  tenderness  and  soul 
strength  had  been  developed  in  her  since 
then  !  And  yet  the  recollection  of  their 
last  conversation  stood  forth  so  vividly 
in  her  mind.  How  many  bitter  struggles 
had  she  not  fought  since  then,  and  what 
a  rich  reward  had  God  not  given  her  for 
going  victorious  from  the  strife  ?  Did 
Uno  read  in  her  face  the  higher  degree 
of  growth  and  inner  peace  which  she  had 
attained  1  So  it  seemed  ;  for  there  was 
an  expression  of  grief,  and  yet  of  satis- 
faction in  the  look  which  he  fastened 
upon  hei\  He  seized  the  extended  hand, 
and  said  with  deep  earnestness,  — 

" '  Before  Uno  can  meet  Ellen  with 
calmness,  he  must  not  try  to  see  her.' 
These  were  your  last  words  to  me.  I 
have  preserved  them  in  my  memory, 
guarded  them  in  my  heart,  and  obeyed 
you.  With  a  calm,  deep,  earnest  friend- 
ship, free  from  any  shade  of  passion,  I 
again  see  }'ou,  else  I  should  never  have 
crossed  your  threshold." 

"  Thanks  !  I  knew  that  Uno  was 
noble  in  thought  and  feeling." 

Evert's  entrance  and  the  arrival  of 
several  guests  interrupted  the  conversa- 
tion. 

The  gentlemen  chatted  and  played 
cards.  Ellen  was  an  extremely  lovely 
hostess.  The  occasional  dreaminess  and 
abstraction  was  now  gone.  A  great  calm 
rested  over  her  whole  being.  She  no 
longer  fell  into  transports,  but  every 


word  evinced  a  trusting  and  discerning 
mind,  while  her  conversation  breathed 
genius  and  superiority,  but  a  superiority 
which  was  in  no  way  unbecoming  to  the 
woman. 

Several  of  the  gentlemen  had  gathered 
around  her,  and  among  them  President 
S***.  They  were  talking  about  wo- 
man's minority,  and  all  the  more  or  less 
exalted  propositions  to  emancipate  her, 
which  constituted  the  subject  of  most 
of  the  conversation  and  writing  of  the 
time. 

"  So  richly  endowed  a  woman  as  you 
must  naturally  be  of  the  opinion  that 
woman  ought  to  become  of  age  in  Swe- 
den, as  well  as  in  France  and  other 
countries  1 "  said  the  President. 

"  I  really  dare  not  express  myself  on 
the  subject,"  answered  Ellen,  smiling, 
"  for  I  might  seem  to  be  entirely  mis- 
taken in  the  worth  of  my  sex.  But  I 
certainly  think  that  woman's  physical 
and  spiritual  nature  is  such  that  she 
must  absolutely  have  a  support  in  man. 
What  is  more,  I  do  not  consider  her 
sufficiently  grown  to  step  out  from  her 
condition  of  minority,  for  her  education, 
as  it  is  now  conducted,  is  not  calculated 
to  develop  her  mental  powers  so  that  she 
can  manage  her  property  or  take  care  of 
herself  alone.  What  are  we  women  at 
present  but  fine  dolls  in  society ;  or  when 
we  do  not  have  fortune,  simply  cooks 
and  child's  nurses  ?  But  we  are  not 
educators  and  housewives." 

"  But  how  remedy  this  lack  ? "  said 
Uno. 

"  It  is  hard  to  remedy,  just  for  the 
reason  that  woman's  especial  education 
ought  to  start  from  the  family  life,  and 
not  from  the  schools." 

"  Then  you  do  not  think  that  public 
schools  would  contribute  to  her  develop- 
ment 1 " 

"  Yes,  to  the  intellectual  very  essen- 
tially, but  not  to  the  moral.  In  the 
latter  the  mother  alone  plays  the  chief 
part.  She  is  to  sow  the  seeds  of  the 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


95 


good  in  the  child's  heart ;  she  is  to 
teach  her  daughter  by  example  in  the 
home  to  be  devoted  and  self-sacrificing. 
No  instruction  at  school  is  able  to  devel- 
op a  girl's  faculty  for  domestic  duties,  so 
that  she  may  become  a  good  wife,  a 
tender  and  judicious  mother.  That  is 
something  which  she  must  take  with  her 
from  the  home,  which  must  stand  ob- 
jectively before  her  from  childhood  and 
follow  her  through  her  whole  life." 

"  You  thus  consider  it  unnecessary  to 
give  woman  any  higher  intellectual  edu- 
cation 1 " 

*'  Not  at  all.  The  cultivation  of  the 
intellect  is  essential  to  her  higher  soul 
development,  as  feeling,  when  not  led  by 
the  reason,  is  only  a  blind  instinct.  Be- 
sides, how  important  it  is,  so  to  cultivate 
her  understanding  that,  with  discernment 
and  a  clear  consciousness  of  her  high 
destiny,  she  may  be  able  to  fulfil  it ;  but 
the  cold  reason  alone  cannot  create  any 
devoted  wife  or  loving  mother.  There- 
fore the  education  which  proceeds  from 
the  home  is  the  most  important.'1 

"  So  you  do  not  wish  woman  to  be- 
come of  age  ? " 

"  Yes,  as  a  thinking  and  free  being 
she  is  entitled  to  it ;  but  ehe  ought  to 
be  so  educated,  that  her  increased  priv- 
ileges do  not  become  a  source  of  misfor- 
tune instead  of  freedom  and  happiness  ; 
this  education  she  does  not  receive  now. 
She  is  brought  up  for  the  condition  of  a 
minor,  and  all  her  habits  obtain  such  a 
direction  that  she  neither  can  be  nor 
ought  to  be  regarded  as  a  free  being. 
The  only  aim  has  been  to  teach  girls 
some  accomplishments  with  which  they 
could  shine.  That  they  might  one  day 
be  obliged  to  think  for  themselves,  to 
manage  their  affairs  or  have  a  plan  for 
life,  was  something  which  never  came  in 
question." 

"  It  is  strange  to  hear  a  woman  express 
herself  in  this  way." 

"  Why  so  1  All  depends  upon  whether 
we  still  preserve  our  illusions,  instead  of 


taking  experience  as  a  teacher.  At  my 
age  one  has  left  the  former  and  entered 
the  school  of  the  latter." 


One  morning  a  few  days  after  this 
conversation,  Ellen  stood  in  the  saloon 
with  her  little  boy  in  her  arms  and  let 
him  look  at  his  father's  portrait,  while 
she  tried  to  make  him  comprehend  that 
it  was  "papa." 

The  door  of  the  anteroom  opened  and 
a  servant  said,  — 

"  Please  walk  in,  Herr  Count ;  the  As- 
sessor will  be  at  leisure  directly  as  soon 
as  Baron  H leaves  him." 

Ellen  turned  towards  the  door ;  it  was 
Uno.  When  he  saw  Ellen  with  the  boy 
in  her  arms,  there  was  a  singular  light 
in  his  eyes ;  but  he  made  a  violent  effort 
and  succeeded  in  repressing  his  emotion. 
He  advanced  with  apparent  calmness  to 
greet  her,  while  she  put  her  little  boy 
down  on  the  floor.  The  boy  made  a  bow 
and  said  something  which  was  meant  for 
"  good  morning." 

Uno  lifted  the  child  up,  kissed  him, 
and  asked,  — 

"  What  is  your  name  1 " 

"  Eon,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Elon,"  said  Ellen.  She  took  her  little 
boy  by  the  hand  and  asked  Uno  to  step 
into  the  other  room,  where  she  seated 
herself  on  a  sofa,  with  the  child  in  her 
lap. 

"It  is  the  general  complaint  that  you 
have  deprived  society  of  its  brightest  or- 
nament when  3Tou  are  missing.  What 
has  been  able  to  induce  one  who  is  really 
entitled  to  be  regretted,  so  suddenly  to 
abandon  the  scene  of  her  triumphs  1 " 

"  And  can  you  ask  that  ?  "  said  Ellen, 
smiling.  "  I  should  think  that  the 
question  was  \innecessary  when  I  have 
the  reason  of  my  absence  in  my  lap." 

"  Do  you  feel  no  regret  for  those 
pleasures  which  you  embraced  before 
with  so  much  interest  1 " 


96 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


"  How  could  1 1  What  value  do  they 
possess  iu  comparison  with  the  joy  which 
my  child  gives  me  1 " 

"  That  child  then  constitutes  your 
whole  world1?" 

"No,   half.     My  husband  constitutes 
the  first  half  of  it." 
.  t    "  These  two  are  thus  all  to  you  ? " 
I    "  Yes.     Ought  they  not  to  be  1 " 
!     "  You   are  right,  Ellen,  and  you  will 
surely  be  as  good  a  mother  as  you  are  a 
wife." 

"  I  should  like  to  be  both,  but  fear 
that  it  stops  only  at  the  desire." 

Evert  entered,  and  when  he  saw  his 
wife  with  the  child  in  her  arms,  he  said 
to  Uno  as  he  smiled  sourly,  — 

"  Ellen  is  determined  to  play  the  part 
of  child's  nurse,  although  I  have  warned 
her  in  the  tenderest  manner  against  the 
over-exertion ;  but  my  prayers  now  as 
always  have  no  effect  upon  her." 

"  I  do  not  over-exert  myself,"  replied 
Ellen  with  so  mild  and  loving  an  expres- 
sion, that  Uno  thought,  — 

"  His  place  would  be  to  kneel  at  her 
feet.  What  a  treasure  he  possesses  in 
this  wife  ! " 

Evert's  thought  did  not  by  any  means 
go  in  the  same  direction.  He  was  pro- 
voked at  Ellen  for  sitting  with  the  child 
in  her  lap  like  any  burgher  wife,  when 
he  wished  her  to  appear  in  every  respect 
as  the  type  of  an  aristocratic  lady.  Be- 
sides he  wished  Uno  to  admire  his  love 
and  tenderness  to  her,  and  therefore  he 
resumed,  — 

"  Ah  !  my  dear,  yoxi  exert  yourself  too 
much,  with  your  delicate  health  and  sen- 
sitive nerves." 

"  0,  I  am  young,  strong,  and  healthy," 
said  Ellen,  pressing  the  boy  to  her  heart. 
"  Besides,  you  are  so  careful  lest  I  should 
tax  my  strength  too  much,  that,  with  the 
best  intentions,  I  cannot  content  you." 
She  gave  him  her  hand  kindly  and  left 
the  room. 

Her  last  words  dissipated  slightly  the 
cloud  of  displeasure  which  had  for  a  mo- 


ment rested  on  Evert's  brow.  He  smiled 
and  said,  — 

"  It  always  goes  in  just  this  way.  I 
try  to  be  stern,  but  I  am  conquered  by  a 
smile." 

"  And  who  would  not  be  conquered  by 
a  mother  who  loves  her  child1?"  said 
Uno.  "  I  scarcely  know  anything  more 
beautiful.  I  am  seized  with  reverence 
at  the  sight." 

"  So  is  it  also  with  me,"  said  Evert ; 
and  throwing  a  glance  in  the  mirror,  he 
gave  his  face  an  interesting  expression. 


The  amusements  of  the  winter  season 
were  again  in  full  career.  Ellen  appeared 
now  and  then  in  society,  but  her  stay 
was  quite  short.  She  was  never  seen 
more  than  a  little  while  at  any  place, 
and  then  she  was  so  lovely,  so  captivat- 
ing, that  one  saw  her  disappear  with  real 
regret,  after  she  had  for  a  few  moments 
been  the  object  of  general  admiration. 
The  women  asserted  that  it  was  a  coquet- 
tish ruse  in  the  young  married  woman, 
who  wished  to  let  her  admirers  feel  the 
void  which  she  left  behind  her.  They 
said  much  more  than  this  ;  but  it  entered 
no  one's  mind  that  she  hastened  from 
the  pleasures,  flattery,  and  vanity  of  the 
saloon  in  order  to  take  her  place  by  the 
cradle  of  her  sleeping  child,  or  to  let  it 
rest  in  her  arms.  That  she  showed  her- 
self in  company  like  a  meteor,  to  shine 
and  disappear,  came  from  the  fact  that 
her  husband  required  it,  and  she  had 
made  it  a  law  to  please  him  so  far  as  lay 
in  her  power,  although  never  at  the  ex- 
pense of  her  child's  care.  The  former 
way  of  life  in  her  own  house  was  again 
commenced.  A  number  of  so-called 
friends  assembled  there  once  a  week,  be- 
sides all  the  invited  companies.  All  at- 
tempts at  retrenchment  on  Ellen's  part 
were  fruitless,  and  only  called  forth  anger 
and  bitter  feelings  from  Evert.  Thus 
she  soon  perceived  that  so  long  as  any  of 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN". 


97 


her  property  remained,  nothing  would  be 
able  to  check  him  in  his  extravagance 
and  love  of  display.  The  aim  of  his  life 
was  still  to  be  foremost  in  society,  and 
until  all  sources  of  help  were  exhausted, 
nothing  in  the  world  could  restrain  him 
from  continuing  as  he  had  begun.  Often 
when  Ellen  sat  alone  with  her  child,  she 
thanked  her  mother  in  her  heart  for  so 
arranging  it  that  this  chilli  at  least 
should  never  be  impoverished  through 
her  husband's  folly ;  but  she  had  not  yet 
thought  that  she  would  perhaps  one  day 
be  forced  to  choose  between  her  hus- 
band's honor  and  her  child's  future.  She 
did  not  consider  it  possible  that  it  could 
come  to  that. 

Time  had  thus  elapsed,  and  the  great- 
er part  of  the  winter  was  over.  Uno 
had  often  been  at  Ochard's,  but  only 
when  there  was  a  reception.  His  beha- 
vior towards  Ellen  evinced  true  respect ; 
but  he  never  approached  her  for  a  pri- 
vate conversation.  He  carefully  avoided 
everything  which  reminded  of  the  former 
friendly  intimacy.  • 

One  morning  in  March  while  Ellen 
was  playing  with  her  little  boy,  Baroness 
Ernstein  came  in.  Augusta  looked  dis- 
turbed. 

"  My  dear  Ellen,"  said  she,  "  I  desire 
to  speak  a  few  words  to  you  in  confi- 
dence." 

Ellen  rang,  and  Ingrid  assumed  the 
charge  of  the  boy.  When  Augusta  and 
Ellen  were  alone,  the  Baroness  said,  — 

"  Have  you  seen  your  husband  to- 
day!" 

"Yes,  but  only  for  a  moment.  He 
has  had  so  many  calls  this  morning  and 
was  obliged  to  go  to  the  Treasurer  so 
early,  that  we  only  spoke  a  few  hasty 
words  to  each  other.  But  why  do  you 
ask  me  this  question  1 " 

"  You  shall  hear  directly.  I  suppose 
you  know  where  he  was  yesterday  1 " 

"At  a  dinner  which  your  husband 
had  given  in  honor  of  the  Englishman, 
Lord  H ." 


"  Precisely.  When  the  dinner  was 
over,  some  of  the  gentlemen  concluded 
to  go  to  Djurgarden.  There  they  played 

cards.     Captain  U had  desperately 

bad  luck,  while  your  husband's  was  bril- 
liant. When  U had  played  away  all 

the  money  which  he  had  with  him,  he 
put  up  his  remarkably  fine  riding  horse. 
Ochard  won  that  also,  and  the  game  was 

then  ended.     U ,  embittered  by  his 

reverses,  wished  to  be  revenged  on  your 
husband,  and  said  to  Lord  H ,  — 

"  '  You  have  not  taken  part  in  the 
game,  and  yet  I  know  that  you  are  a 
lucky  player.' 

"  '  It  is  just  my  constant  luck  that 
takes  away  the  pleasure  of  playing^,' 
replied  his  Lordship.  '  It  is  so  monoto- 
nous to  win  continually.' 

"  '  So  you  always  have  good  luck,  my 
Lord  ? '  asked  Evert. 

"  '  Yes,  so  invariably,  that  I  scarcely 
think  I  can  lose.' 

"  '  But  it  might  happen  that  Fortune 
one  day  might  turn  her  back  on  you. 
She  is  capricious,'  said  Evert. 

"  '  Possibly,  but  I  doubt  if  she  will 
gladden  me  with  a  proof  of  her  capri- 
ciousness.' 

"  'And  besides,'  joined  in  U ,  'no1 

person  with  a  limited  fortune  ought  to 

engage  in  a  contest  with  Lord   H , 

who  can  afford  to  lose  as  large  a  sum  as 
your  whole  fortune,  my  dear  Ochard.' 

"  '  I  do  not  dispute  it ;  but  it  would 
still  be  interesting  to  see  if  my  Lord's 
luck  holds  this  evening.' 

"  '  This  evening,  like  all  others,'  replied 
the  Lord,  with  irritated  assurance. 

" '  You  are  not  rich  enough,  dear 
Ochard,  to  risk  the  experiment,'  said 
U . 

"  '  I  am  at  least  rich  enough  to  venture 
to  tempt  fortune  this  evening,  without 
needing  to  put  my  horses  at  stake,'  re- 
plied Ochard,  presumptuously. 

"  'If  you  are  determined  to  be  ruined, 
my  denr  sir,'  said  the  Englishman,  '  it 
is-  not  ruy  fault ;  I  have  warned  you.' 


98 


THE  WIFE   OF  A  VAIN   MAN. 


"  But  Ochard's  vanity,  wounded  by 
U 's  words  and  Lord  H 's  assur- 
ance, hindered  him  from  listening  to  the 
warnings  of  the  others.  With  an  expres- 
sion of  reliance  he  said,  — 

"  '  I  am  not  so  easily  ruined,  my  Lord.' 

"  Then  the  game  began.  At  first  luck 
seemed  actually  to  have  abandoned  the 
Englishman,  and  Ochard  triumphed, 
while  those  around  him  praised  his  lucky 
star,  which  never  failed  him  ;  but  during 
the  third  game  the  luck  turned,  and 
after  that  remained  steadily  on  the  Eng- 
lishman's side. 

"  '  My  dear  sir,  the  stake  is  too  high, 
we  will  make  it  lower.  It  is  my  unfelici- 
tous  luck  which  I  would  show  you,  but 
I  do  not  care  to  win  your  money.' 

"  '  And  I,  my  Lord,  can  very  well  bear 
the  loss  which  this  or  even  a  higher 
stake  might  involve.' 

"  In  short,  when  they  had  finished 
playing,  your  husband,  who  is  not  gen- 
erally a  gambler,  had,  out  of  sheer  vanity, 
lost  an  unheard-of  sum.  He  had  played 
on  his  word  of  honor,  and  the  debt  must 
be  liquidated  to  -  morrow,  when  Lord 

H is  invited  here  to  dinner,  together 

with  my  husband  and  several  of  the 
corps  diplomatique.  I,  who  know  from 
Rubens  how  large  a  fortune  you  brought 
him,  and  have  also  learned  through 
experience  what  it  costs  to  live  as  you 
do,  was  almost  beside  myself  with  fright 
at  this  intelligence.  I  foresaw  that  he 
would  probably  not  be  able  to  pay  his 
gambling  debt  without  a  sensible  loss  for 
the  time,  and  therefore  I  beg  you  to  turn 
to  me  if  it  should  be  necessary.  It  is 
quite  likely  that  Evert  cannot  command 
so  large  an  amount  withoiit  being  com- 
pelled to  procure  it  in  a  way  that  would 
place  him  in  the  hands  of  the  usurers." 

"  How  large  is  this  amount  1 "  asked 
Ellen,  in  a  trembling  voice. 

"  I  know  not  how  many  thousand  riks 
thalers." 

"  Thanks,  Augusta,  for  your  sympathy 
and  friendship  !  But  however  large  this 


sum  may  be,  Evert  will  certainly  be  able 
to  pay  it,  without  being  obliged  to  bor- 
row." 

"Are  you  perfectly  sure  of  thatl" 

"Perfectly." 

"  My  dear  Ellen,  a  hundred  thousand 
thalers  is  certainly  a  large  sum  ;  but  when 
one  lives  at  the  rate  of  at  least  twelve 
thousand  a  year,  has  an  establishment 
which  costs  more  than  twenty  thousand, 
and  before  his  marriage  had  a  debt  of 
perhaps  twenty  thousand,  then,  my 
friend,  it  is  probable  that  there  is  not 
much  remaining  after  eight  years'  mar- 
riage." 

"  Notwithstanding  this,  Augusta,  I  as- 
sure you  that  Evert  will  not  need  to  bor- 
row, in  order  to  pay  his  gambling  debt." 

"I  know  you  have  a  capital  which 
he  cannot  come  at.  But  consider,  you 
are  both  young,  and  you  have  a  child, 
whom  you  must  not  deprive  of  these 
means,  which  will  one  day  be  all  you 
possess.  You  see,  Ellen,  I  speak  as  a 
friend  who  thoroughly  knows  the  truth, 
and  npt  like  the  multitude  who  assert 
that  your  fortune  is  three  times  as  large 
as  it  is,  —  something  which  Evert  has 
tried  to  make  every  one  believe.  But  to 
none  but  you  have  I  said  what  I  thought 
and  intended  in  this  matter." 

"  Thanks,  thanks,  you  dear,  good  wo- 
man !  But  believe  me,  I  rely  so  fully 
upon  you  and  your  friendship,  that  if  I 
should  one  day  need  the  help  of  others, 
you  would  be  the  only  one  to  whom  I 
would  apply." 

In  a  little  while  Augusta  left.  Ellen 
walked  to  and  fro  for  a  few  moments,  as 
if  undecided  about  what  she  ought  to  do. 
Finally  she  went  in  to  her  child,  and  after 
pressing  him  to  her  heart  a  moment  with 
a  warm  prayer,  she  dressed  herself  and 
went  out. 


On  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  after 
the  married  couple  had  retired,  without 
Evert's  mentioning  a  word  of  what  had 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


99 


occurred,  simply  informing  his  wife  that 

Lord  H and  several  friends  were  to 

dine  with  him  the  next  day,  Ellen  was 
awakened  by  her  husband's  getting  up 
very  carefully.  While  pretending  to  be 
asleep  she  saw  him  take  her  keys  and 
open  her  bureau  very  cautiously,  pulling 
out  the  drawer  in  which  she  was  accus- 
tomed to  keep  her  jewels.  But  when  he 
found  the  drawer  empty,  he  made  a  ges- 
ture of  surprise  and  anger,  and  then 
opened  all  the  other  drawers  with  great 
impatience,  but  only  found  some  less 
valuable  trinkets.  All  the  rest  were 
gone. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  muttered 
Evert,  pale  as  death,  and  locked  the 
bureau  again. 

Any  one  who  had  seen  the  look  of  an- 
guish, of  horror  and  grief,  which  Ellen 
fastened  on  her  husband,  could  have 
divined  what  she  at  that  moment  suffered. 
But  when  Evert  returned  to  bed  she 
closed  her  eyes  and  feigned  slumber, 
while  she  thought,  — 

"  I  will  spare  him  the  humiliation  of 
knowing  that  I  have  seen  his  act.  0 
God,  sustain  my  courage  !  " 

During  the  remainder  of  the  night  the 
words  of  the  jeweler,  whom  she  had  asked 
to  exchange  her  jewels  for  false  ones,  re- 
sounded in  her  ears  :  "  The  Assessor  has 
already  spoken  with  me  aboxit  this." 

The  next  morning  after  breakfast, 
Evert  said,  — 

"  Listen,  Ellen ;  I  would  like  to  have 
the  jeweller  alter  your  ornaments  and 
make  the  setting  a  little  more  modern. 
Can  I  see  them  1 " 

"  No,  my  dear,  you  cannot,  for  I  left 
them  there  yesterday  in  the  same  design 
which  you  had  in  view." 

"  That  is  singular  !  But  I  must  de- 
clare that  I  do  not  at  all  like  such  inde- 
pendent actions.  I  require  you  to  con- 
sult with  me,  and  not  to  take  such  meas- 
ures without  my  consent.  To  what  jew- 
eller have  you  taken  them  ? " 

"  To  Herr  H ."    Ellen  went  to  him 


with  a  sad,  almost  suffering  expression 
in  her  eyes,  saying  :  "  Leave  this  tri- 
fling matter,  Evert,  and  let  me  attend  to 
the  affair  myself;  for  I  have  something 
more  important  to  speak  to  you  about. 
I  wish  to  give  you  this  money.  A  cer- 
tain feeling  tells  me  that  you  need  it." 
She  handed  her  husband  a  roll  of  bills. 
"  But  mark  well !  this  is  the  only,  the 
last  means  which  I  have  a  right  to  dispose 
of." 

"  Ellen,  from  whence  have  you  ob- 
tained this  money  1 "  exclaimed  Evert, 
very  red  in  the  face ;  "  and  how  do  you 
know  that  I  need  it  ? " 

"  Let  both  remain  my  secret,  and  rest 
assured  that  T  shall  endeavor  to  forget 
all  that  concerns  this  matter,  if  you  will 
only  out  of  love  for  me  make  the  sacri- 
fice not  to  gamble  any  more." 

"  Ellen,  I  am  no  gambler." 

"  No,  I  am  aware  of  it,  but  from  a 
false  ambition  you  allow  yourself  to  be 
tempted  to  play." 

"  You  season  your  gift  with  moraliz- 
ing," rejoined  Evert  in  an  offended  tone. 

"  Moralizing  1  no,  Evert,  but  with  ad- 
vice, a  warning  from  the  best  friend  you 
possess,  and  it  ought  not  to  wound  you. 
Who  is  better  entitled  to  give  you  friend- 
ly advice  than  your  wife ;  she  who  is 
to  share  with  you  all  sorrows  and  joys? 
Ah,  Evert !  believe  me,  no  one  can  wish 
to  spare  you  every  humiliation  more  than 
I;  but  do  not  regard  the  words  which 
my  duty  and  my  reason  dictate  as 
blame  or  the  desire  to  preach  to  you. 
What  I  say  has  its  ground  in  so  sincere 
an  affection,  that  it  ought  not  to  be  mis- 
understood." 


The  dinner  was  over ;  a  part  of  the 
gentlemen  had  taken  their  leave  to  re- 
turn to  Ochard's  in  the  evening.  Uno, 
who  was  also  there  to  dinner,  had  re- 
-mained  with  several  others.  The  first 
of  the  guests  for  the  evening  who  ar- 
rived was  Baroness  Ernstein. 


100 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


Uno  approached  her  and  said  in  a  low 
voice,  — 

"  Well  ? " 

"  You  wish  to  know  how  the  embassy 
resulted.  Just  as  I  had  supposed.  Not 
a  word  of  disapproval  passed  Ellen's  lips ; 
she  declared  that  she  would  make  it  all 
right  and  refused  to  accept  my  aid." 

"  She  has  kept  her  word.  Ochard  has 

in  our  presence  paid  Lord  H .  Can 

she  have  gone  so  far  in  her  pride  as  to 
cancel  her  settlement  and  deprive  her 
child  of  his  patrimony  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  so,"  answered  the 
Baroness  ;  "  she  loves  her  child  too  deep- 
ly for  that ;  but  she  has  made  a  different 
kind  of  a  sacrifice." 

"  What  sacrifice  1" 

"  That  which  I  predicted." 

"  Sold  her  jewels  1 " 

"Precisely.  When  you  informed  me 
of  Evert's  pecuniary  condition,  and  told 
m'e  that  he  could  not  possibly  pay  his 
gambling  debt  without  applying  to  a 
usurer,  at  the  same  time  desiring  me 
to  offer  my  services,  I  said  to  you,  'El- 
len will  sooner  sell  her  jewels  than  so- 
licit the  assistance  of  others.'  I  know 
her  too  well  not  to  be  aware  of  how 
sensitive  she  is  where  her  husband  is 
concerned." 

"  But  how  do  you  know  that  she  sold 
her  jewels'?" 

"  When  I  left  her,  I  went  to  the  jew- 
eller's to  give  an  order.  When  I  stepped 
into  my  carriage,  Ellen's  stopped  before 
the  store.  I  guessed  her  errand  imme- 
diately, and  after  making  a  few  calls  I  re- 
turned to  the  jeweller's.  There  lay  three 
etuis.  I  opened  one  of  them  and  recog- 
nized Ellen's  jewels.  And  now  I  have  as 
a  true  spy  rendered  my  accounts." 

At  that  moment  Ellen  came  towards 
them,  saying,  — 

"  What  is  being  discussed  here  1  I 
have  had  such  a  hard  contest  to  sustain 
with  several  of  the  ladies,  that  I  wish 
you,  Augusta,  could  have  been  there  to 
help  me." 


"  And  what  was  the  strife  about  1 " 
"  Men  and  women's  unequal  rights." 
"Well,    how   did    the    battle    end?" 
asked  Uno,  smiling. 

"  Ah  !  I  came  very  near  losing  it ; 
for  the  two  ladies  fell  upon  me  with  so 
many  rights  of  our  sex,  that  I  found  my- 
self compelled  to  take  up  the  cause  of  the 
assailed,"  replied  Ellen. 

"  You  defended  man  !  "  exclaimed  the 
Baroness.  "  My  friend,  you  may  be  glad 
that  I  was  not  there,  for  you  would  then 
have  had  one  adversary  more.  I  have 
made  a  resolution  from  which  I  never 
swerve,  always  to  attack  the  so-called 
stronger  sex." 


Again  a  time  elapsed.  Evert  informed 
his  wife  that  <he  had  obtained  the  office 
he  had  striven  for,  and  that  he  intended 
to  celebrate  his  promotion  now  as  in 
former  times,  with  a  grand  ball. 

"  Evert,  ought  we  to  give  any  large 
party  now  1  Can  we  do  it  ?  " 

"  See  here,  Ellen,  hereafter  it  is  my  in- 
come which  is  used,  and  I  beg  to  be  ex- 
cused from  all  interference  on  your  part 
in  matters  with  which  you  have  nothing 
to  do." 

Ellen  was  silent.  A  ball  was  ar- 
ranged with  such  magnificence,  that  El- 
len could  have  wept.  Flowers  were 
ordered  from  the  hot-houses  for  the 
whole  dancing-hall,  so  that  the  room 
should  have  the  appearance  of  a  gar- 
den. No  means  were  spared  to  make 
the  entertainment  brilliant  and  sump- 
tuous. 

The  guests  were  lavish  in  their  praise, 
and  lauded  Evert  as  a  man  who  knew 
how  to  use  his  wealth  in  a  manner 
that  spread  enjoyment  and  delight 
around  him.  But  if  one  could  have 
thrown  a  glance  into  Ellen's  heart  and 
seen  how  unhappy  she  felt  at  this  mag- 
nificence, which,  as  she  suspected,  cost 
them  the  last  of  their  remaining  fortune, 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


101 


how  he  would  nave  pitied  this  much- 
envied  woman  ! 

One  evening  a  week  after  the  festivi- 
ty, when  Ellen's  little  boy  had  gone  to 
sleep  and  she  sat  alone  with  her  sewing, 
the  door  opened  hastily  and  Evert  en- 
tered. He  was  very  pale. 

"  I  wish  to  speak  with  •you,  Ellen," 
said  he.  * 

She  went  out  with  him  into  the  cabi- 
net. 

"  Do  yo\i  recollect  that  you  once  said 
with  regard  to  the  settlement  which  your 
mother  made,  that  everything  you  pos- 
sessed was  mine  also  1 " 

"  Very  well,  Evert,  and  you  can  find 
the  proof  of  it  in  my  wishing  you  to  draw 
the  interest." 

"  But  what  do  you  suppose  a  man  can 
do  with  two  thousand  five  hundred  tha- 
lers  a  year1?  It  is  barely  enough  for  a 
simple  clerk's  family  to  live  on,  much 
less  a  man  in  my  position." 

"  Your  own  income  is  now  so  large 
that^  joined  to  this  interest  and  the  re- 
mainder of  our  fortune,  it  ought  to 
enable  us  to  live  an  untroubled  life." 

"  Possibly  for  one  who  can  limit  him- 
self and  has  no  debts;  but  you  see,  I 
neither  can  nor  will  change  our  manner 
of  life.  By  so  doing  I  should  cease  to 
be  the  leader  of  the  ton,  the  one  around 
whom  all  gather  to  render  him  their 
homage  and  admiration.  Do  you  not 
understand  how  abhorrent  it  would  be 
for  a  wealthy  and  courted  man,  the  ob- 
ject of  the  attention  of  persons  in  high 
places,  to  step  down  to  the  level  of  a 
ruined  man,  which  I  actually  am1?  To 
be  obliged,  after  such  a  life  as  ours,  to 
make  retrenchments  and  live  like  an  or- 
dinary office-h older  who  toils  for  his  liv- 
ing? No,  this  shabby  style  I  am  not 
created  for.  Rather  than  survive  such  an 
humiliation,  I  would  shoot  myself.  But 
so  desperate  a  step  is  not  necessary. 
With  a  single  stroke  of  the  pen  you  can 
cancel  that  deed  ,  for  it  is  stated  in  your 
mother's  contract  that,  if  you  should  con- 


sider it  your  duty  to  annul  it,  you  have 
the  right  to  do  so." 

"  Yes,  so  it  stands,"  answered  Ellen 
with  mild  earnestness ;  "  but  there  is  a 
clause  qualifying  this  permission,  which 
runs  thus  :  '  But  if  my  daughter  Ellen 
has  children  in  her  marriage,  then  I  ad- 
vise her  to  reflect  well  before  she  sets 
aside  the  disposition  I  have  made,  so 
that  she  may  only  in  a  case  of  the  great- 
est necessity  infringe  my  desire,  which 
is,  for  her  to  leave  this  property  to  her 
children  undiminished.' " 

"  Well,  that  really  does  not  hinder 
you  from  •» annulling  the  contract,  so 
much  I  can  understand.  If  you  love  me 
truly  and  sincerely,  you  will  not  hesitate 
for  a  moment.  Love  sacrifices  every- 
thing." 

"But  true  affection  first  considers 
whether  the  gift  benefits  or  injures. 
'  Only  in  a  case  of  the  greatest  necessi- 
ty,' says  my  mother's  will ;  and  I  revere 
her  too  much  not  to  regard  her  wish  as 
sacred.  Evert,  believe  me,  were  it  to 
save  your  honor,  I  would  hesitate  as  lit- 
tle now  as  when  I  gave  you  the  sum 
which  you  needed  to  fulfil  your  word. 
But  as  it  is,  I  should  defraud  my  child, 
you,  and  myself  of  a  security  against 
need  and  trouble,  only  for  the  sake  of 
continuing  a  foolish  manner  of  life  for  a 
few  years.  No,  Evert,  I  should  be  a 
poor  mother,  a  poor  wife,  and  a  weak, 
pitiful  woman,  if  I  did  not  try  to  check 
you  in  the  course  upon  which  you  have 
entered  and  which  will  lead  to  the  ruin 
of  us  all." 

"  Ellen,  you  will  then  see  me  in  de- 
spair over  our  downfall,  force  me  to 
shoot  myself ! "  exclaimed  Evert  with  a 
gesture  full  of  effect.  He  had  always 
found  Ellen  submissive,  and  did  not  for  a 
moment  doubt  that  she  would  yield  now. 
But  he  did  not  know  the  strength  which 
this  heart  contained. 

"  No,  not  at  all.  And  I  cannot  enter- 
tain so  mean  a  thought  of  you,  as  that 
you  would  commit  a  crime  so  infamous 


102 


THE  WIFE   OF  A  VAIN   MAX. 


as  to  stain  your  wife  and  child  with  the 
blood  of  a  suicide,  rather  than  to  sacrifice 
a  little  of  the  vain  display  with  which 
you  surround  your  life." 

"  You  thus  refuse  to  annul  the  con- 
tract 1 " 

"  Yes,  Evert,  for  I  should  not  do  you 
a  service  by  complying  with  your  wish. 
In  a  few  years  we  should  again  be  in  the 
same  situation,  and  have  nothing  remain- 
ing for  our  child." 

"  Well,  then,  cold,  selfish  woman,  you 
are  likely  to  be  forced  ;  for  I  have  a  debt 
of  thirty  thousand  thalers,  and  am  abso- 
lutely obliged  to  redeem  two  or  three 
notes  in  the  space  of  a  fortnight,  besides 
paying  for  the  new  furniture  in  the 
dancing-hall.  And  the  carriage-maker 
will  not  wait  any  longer.  In  a  word,  I 
must  have  money,  otherwise  I  shall  be 
miserable ;  and  if  you  do  not  give  it  to 
me  willingly,  then  I  shall  force  you,  for 
my  honor  is  at  stake."  Evert  went 
towards  his  wife  with  a  threatening  ges- 
ture. 

Ellen  had  become  unnaturally  pale. 
She  leaned  against  her  writing-table,  the 
drawers  of  which  contained  the  deeds 
through  which  her  child's  future  was  se- 
cured. A  moment's  pause  ensued.  She 
sat  down  as  if  to  consider  her  whole 
position.  Finally  she  said  in  a  voice  so 
deeply  serious  that  it  acquired  something 
solemn,  — 

"  Take  a  seat,  Evert,  and  let  us  ex- 
amine our  position  with  calmness.  Then, 
when  I  have  come  to  a  clear  understand- 
ing of  it  all,  I  will  take  my  resolution." 
Not  a  word  or  even  a  look  accused  the 
foolish  husband  who  had  squandered  so 
large  a  fortune. 

Evert,  who  saw  that  if  he  wished  to 
gain  his  object,  he  must  reveal  to  his  wife 
a  part  of  the  truth,  accounted  for  all  the 
debts  of  which  he  considered  it  necessary 
to  inform  her.  Without  a  muscle  mov- 
ing in  her  face,  she  heard  that  all  the 
property  he  had  obtained  with  her  was 
very  nearly  destroyed.  Besides  this, 


Ochard  had  a  debt  of  thirty  thousand 
thalers.  With  her  head  leaning  on  her 
hand  Ellen  repeated  within  herself,  — 

"  Thus  completely  ruined  !  All  that 
remains  is  only  a  part  of  what  my  moth- 
er destined  for  my  children." 

But  of  all  the  bitter  and  agonized 
thoughts  which  filled  her  breast,  not  a 
single  one  passed  her  lips.  When  her 
husband  had  finished,  she  stifled  the  sigh 
which  tried  to  force  its  escape,  and  gave 
him  her  hand  with  an  indescribably  ten- 
der and  sorrowful  expression,  — 

"  Thank  you,  Evert,  for  letting  me 
know  the  truth  and  not  concealing  our 
actual  situation  from  me." 

"  And  you  make  over  to  me  the  right 
to  draw  the  money  mentioned  in  the 
contract  1 "  exclaimed  Evert,  pressing  her 
hand  and  carrying  it  to  his  lips. 

"  No.  But  I  shall  so  arrange  our  af- 
fairs, that  we  can  lead  a  life  free  from 
care  on  your  income." 

"  Ellen  !  "  shrieked  Evert,  and  sprang 
up.  "  Do  not  drive  me  to  any  exti^me," 
added  he,  laying  his  clenched  hand  on 
the  table  ;  "  I  inight  then  feel  the  desire 
to  destroy  this  deed  myself,  which  de- 
prives me  of  a  property  that  ought  to 
belong  to  me,  and  if  I  did  so,  I  could 
defy  you  to  assert  that  I  had  destroyed 
the  paper.  Will  you  now  give  me  what 
I  ask,  or  shall  I  take  it  ] " 

Ellen  had  also  risen,  and  stood  erect 
with  a  high  head  before  her  husband. 
She  handed  him  a  key  and  said  with  a 
formidable  calmness,  — 

"  I  do  not  wish  you  to  degrade  your- 
self so  far  as  to  commit  a  theft ;  you 
have  been  on  the  point  of  doing  it  once 
before ;  then  it  concerned  my  jewels. 
Here  is  the  key  which  clears  your  way  to 
these  papers,  take  them  !  But  no  power 
in  the  world  shall  then  compel  me  to 
take  part  in  this  extravagant  life.  At 
the  same  moment  that  you  appropriate 
this  little  fortune,  which,  small  as  it  is, 
could  yet  have  secured  our  future,  I  take 
my  child  in  my  arms  and  leave  a  hus- 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


103 


band,  who  wilfully,  with  full  conscious- 
ness and  deliberation,  would  rather  ruin 
his  family  than  submit  to  a  few  retrench- 
ments in  his  manner  of  life.  This  is  now 
my  firm  decision."  She  laid  the  key  be- 
fore him  on  the  table ;  but  Evert  pushed 
it  hastily  away  and  exclaimed  in  an  agi- 
tated voice,  while  he  buried  his  face  in 
his  hands,  — 

"Never  would  I  have  believed  that 
you  cherished  so  little  love  for  me.  Ah  ! 
it  is  fearful,  in  the  hour  of  misfortune  to 
be  so  treated  by  the  one  who  ought  to 
share  and  alleviate  my  troubles." 

"  Evert,  Evert,  I  will  share,  mitigate, 
and  put  an  end  to  your  troubles,"  whis- 
pered Ellen ;  "  but  I  will  do  it  in  such  a 
way  that  we  can  be  satisfied  with  it  in 
the  future.  All,  all,  will  I  do  for  you, 
except  to  give  you  the  opportunity  to  con- 
tinue a  life  which  would  make  you  and 
your  child  miserable.  Do  not  turn  from 
me  ;  believe  my  assurance,  that  I  would 
without  consideration,  without  a  sigh, 
sacrifice  myself  for  you ;  but  your  own 
heart  will  tell  you  in  a  calmer  moment 
that. I  have  no  right  to  deprive  my  child 
of  a  secure  future."  She  added  with 
tenderness,  "  For  what  do  I  live,  if  not 
for  you  and  my  child  ?  You  constitute 
my  whole  world  !  " 

It  was  impossible  not  to  be  moved  by 
her  voice,  by  her  loving  expression ; 
therefore  when  Evert  met  her  mild 
glance,  so  full  of  soul,  he  said,  — 

"  Ellen,  I  will  listen  to  you.'" 

It  would  be  unnecessary  to  relate  here 
word  for  word  what  she  said  ;  but  she  ex- 
pressed the  hope  that  she  should  be  able 
to  help  him  out  of  his  difficulty.  She 
showed  him  the  necessity  of  leading  a 
very  different  life  henceforth.  With  the 
warmth  of  conviction  she  represented  to 
him  that  he  had  now  arrived  at  the  age 
when  vanity  ought  to  give  way  to  a  no- 
ble ambition ;  that  his  aim  hereafter 
ought  to  be,  not  to  shine  with  that  which 
was  in  itself  without  value,  but  really  to 
be  of  use.  Evert  listened  \^ith  a  cloud- 


ed brow,  but  still  he  listened.  To  his 
objection,  that  he  could  not  change  his 
way  of  life  without  letting  the  world  sus- 
pect the  true  cause  of  it,  and  that  he 
could  not  possibly  bear  the  humiliation, 
Ellen  replied  that  the.re  was  a  way  of 
helping  that  matter.  He  should  take  a 
journey  abroad  during  the  summer 
months  at  the  expense  of  the  state. 
During  the  time  she  would  pay  his 
debts,  but  on  the  condition  that  he  gave 
her  full  power  to  act  in  his  place.  They 
conversed  far  into  the  night :  she,  with 
tenderness  and  judgment;  he,  with  the 
bitterness  which  the  necessity  of  yield- 
ing and  sacrificing  that  which  he  held 
dearest  must  unavoidably  engender  with 
such  a  man. 


The  next  morning  Ellen  rode  out  quite 
early.  She  went  to  the  merchant  who 
had  her  money  and  drew  a  portion  of  the 
principal,  with  which  Evert  redeemed 
the  notes  that  were  due  and  paid  the 
tradesmen.  Still,  Evert  was  far  from 
satisfied  with  this  measure,  for  he  had 
only  wished  to  redeem  the  notes,  and  to 
make  a  partial  payment  to  the  mechan- 
ics, reserving  a  little  of  the  money  to 
procure  his  vanity  a  few  more  delightful 
moments.  But  when  Ellen  remained  in- 
exorable on  this  point,  he  was  obliged  to 
comply,  although  with  inward  resent- 
ment. 

In  the  beginning  of  May,  Evert  started 
on  his  journey  abroad,  after  bidding  his 
wife  a  cold  farewell. 

So  Ellen  was  then  left  alone,  with  the 
promise  which  she  had  given  her  hus- 
band so  to  arrange  everything  that  at 
his  return  he  should  have  no  debts  and 
could  continue  to  be  regarded  as  a  man 
of  means.  With  an  admirable  strength 
of  mind  and  a  quick  comprehension  of 
what  ought  to  be  done,  Ellen  went  to 
work. 

Her  first  move  was  to  set  aside  twenty 


104 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


thousand  thalers  of  the  amount  deposited 
with  the  merchant  for  her  son,  in  such  a 
way  that  this  sum  could  not  be  touched. 
Then  she  sold  the  house  with  a  gain  of 
ten  thousand  thalers.  With  this  addi- 
tion to  her  means,  Ellen  looked  forward 
to  the  future  with  hope  and  trust ;  for 
she  had  now  paid  all  the  debts  of  which 
Evert  had  told  her,  and  still  possessed  a 
considerable  surplus. 

When  with  the  assistance  of  the  mer- 
chant she  had  in  all  silence  put  Evert's 
affairs  in  order,  and  had  made  an  esti- 
mate of  what  remained  and  how  it  should 
be  employed,  she  removed  to  her  pretty 
little  country  place,  Eksholm,  where  she 
one  day  received  a  letter  from  Evert's  fa- 
ther, who  was  settled  on  a  small  estate 
some  miles  from  the  capital.  The  letter 
ran  thus  :  — 

"  MY  BELOVED  CHILD  :  However  un- 
willing I  am  to  trouble  you,  I  can  still 
not  avoid  telling_you  a  few  things  about 
your  husband,  my  son,  which  have  occa- 
sioned me  much  sorrow.  I  do  so,  because 
it  may  have  very  unpleasant  conse- 
quences for  my  daughters,  and  I  desire 
you  to  make  yourself  acquainted  with 
how  matters  stand.  I  was  very  ill  last 
fall,  as  you  know,  and  being  unable  to  go 
to  the  capital  myself  to  attend  to  my  af- 
fairs, I  was  obliged  to  write  to  Evert  and 
commission  him  to  draw  a  sum  of  money 
which  had  been  placed  at  interest,  and 
which  constituted  his  sisters'  inheritance 
from  their  mother.  He  let  me  know  a 
short  time  afterwards  that  he  had  taken 
the  money,  and  bade  me  tell  him  where 
he  should  place  it.  I  told  him  to  loan  it 
out  to  another  firm  on  a  first  mortgage, 
and  gave  him  full  power  to  act  in  my 
place.  Since  then  he  has  said  in  several 
letters  that  he  had  not  yet  found  time  to 
attend  to  the  affair,  and  finally  asked  me 
if  I  would  not  allow  "him  for  the  present 
to  deposit  it  with  the  same  merchant  who 
had  your  money,  until  I  could  see  to  the 
matter  myself.  I  replied  that  I  was  satis- 


fied with  that  arrangement.  The  next  let- 
ter which  I  received  was  from  you,  with  the 
intelligence  that  Evert  had  gone  abroad. 
I  found  it  scarcely  in  accordance  with 
civility  and  the  respect  to  which  I  as  a 
father  was  entitled,  for  him  to  go  away 
without  writing  to  me  ;  it  also  seemed  to 
me  incomprehensible  that  he  had  not 
sent  me  any  receipt  for  the  money.  In 
short,  then  wrote  to  the  merchant  in 
question,  and  obtained  the  answer  that 
Evert  had  not  placed  his  sisters'  little 
patrimony  with  him.  I  have  written  to 
Evert,  without  receiving  any  answer. 
All  this  has  led  me  to  try  to  find  out 
about  his  affairs,  which  I  have  succeeded 
in  doing  through  my  son-in-law,  Cap- 
tain L . 

'"  L has  probably  visited  you  dur- 
ing his  stay  in  Stockholm  ;  but  I  had 
forbidden  him  to  speak  with  you  on  busi- 
ness, for  1  wished  first  to  know  how 
things  were  with  Evert. 

"  L ,  whose  property  is  in  the  hands 

of  a  merchant  who  is  Count  Uno  Ker- 
ner's  homme  daffaires,  was,  on  calling 
upon  him,  questioned  about  how  Evert's 
affairs  actually  stood.  When  L re- 
quested to  know  the  reason  of  this  in- 
quiry, the  merchant  replied,  — 

"  '  I  only  wish  to  hear  if  he  is  really 
wealthy,  which  I  begin  to  doubt,  as  he 
has  twice  borrowed  of  Count  Uno  Ker- 
ner  and  stands  in  debt  to  him  for  ten 
thousand  thalers.' 

"All  this,  and  much  more,  has  excited 
my  anxiety ;  and  I  now  ask  you,  my 
daughter,  how  is  it  with  my  son  ?  Has 
he  destroyed  the  whole  fortune  which 
you  brought  him,  and  must  I  consider 
him  a  dishonest  man  1 

"It  would  cruelly  grieve  me  to  be 
obliged  to  descend  into  my  grave  with 
the  certainty  that  my  only  sou  is  a  man 
without  honor,  a  vain  and  frivolous  spend- 
thrift, who,  for  the  gratification  of  his 
miserable  desire  for  display  and  pleasure, 
prepares  ruin  for  all  his  family. 

"  If  my  health  had  permitted,  I  would 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


105 


have  cotne  to  you  in  person,  to  obtain  a 
frank  answer  to  these  sad  questions. 
"  Your  affectionate  father-in-law, 

" EVERT  OF  OCHARD." 

Ellen  sat  stunned  by  this  new  blow. 
She,  who  had  thought  with  so  much  joy 
that  her  husband  still  possessed  a  little 
remnant  of  the  property,  she,  who  be- 
lieved that  he  had  spoken  frankly  when 
he  gave  an  account  of  his  debts,  now 
saw  a  new  list  of  them,  and  besides,  — 
this  was  the  worst  of  all,  —  the  dishon- 
esty towards  his  poor  sisters,  whom  he 
had  robbed  of  the  little  means  they  pos- 
sessed, which  the  father,  with  full  confi- 
dence in  his  son's  honor  and  integrity, 
had  entrusted  to  him. 

She  could  not  weep  :  her  grief  was  too 
great  to  be  relieved  by  tears.  But  she 
was  not  one  of  those  who  sit  inactive  and 
brood  over  the  misfortunes  which  have 
befallen  them.  She  always  sought  for  a 
way  of  ameliorating  the  evil.  When 
trial  came  upon  her,  she  tried  to  bear  it 
with  a  true  Christian  spirit.  So  was  it 
now.  After  the  first  grief  and  consterna- 
tion had  abated,  her  only  desire  was  to 
be  able  to  cover  her  husband's  fault,  and 
to  spare  the  old  father  sorrow  on  account 
of  his  son. 

With. this  resolution  she  went  in  to 
town  to  endeavor  to  make  all  things 
right. 


•  The  next  day  she  wrote  to  her  step- 
father :  — 

"  Mr  DEAR  FATHER  :  With  deep  grief 
I  find  myself  to  be  a  cause  of  misunder- 
standing between  you  and  Evert.  The 
state  of  the  case  is  this  :  my  husband,  at 
his  departure,  requested  me  to  send  you 
the  enclosed  receipt  for  the  money  in 
question.  The  reason  that  this  paper 
did  not  come  to  hand  long  ago  is  my 
neglect  to  send  it.  Be  calm,  dear  father, 
in  regard  to  Evert ;  he  will  certainly 
never  occasion  you  any  sorrow." 


Ellen  had  now  saved  her  husband  from 
his  father's  anger  and  contempt ;  for  he 
belonged  to  the  old  school,  and  was  very 
strict  in  his  ideas  of  honor.  But  she  was 
considerably  poorer  in  consequence,  and 
the  appearance  of  carelessness  which  fell 
upon  her  would  diminish  her  father-in- 
law's  respect. 

After  she  had  sent  this  letter,  she 
commissioned  the  merchant  to  redeem 
the  notes  which  Evert  had  given  Uuo 
Kerner ;  but  she  received  the  answer 
that  the  Count  had  taken  the  notes  from 
his  agent,  sa}Ting-  that  he  wished  to  at- 
tend to  the  affair  himself. 

Ellen  then  wrote  to  Uno  and  asked 
him  to  call  on  her;  but  the  Count  was 
away,  and  she  was  obliged  to  return  to 
Eksholm  without  being  able  to  do  any- 
thing further  in  the  matter. 

All  that  now  remained  of  their  fortune, 
besides  the  twenty  thousand  thalers  which 
Ellen  had  reserved  for  her  child,  was 
eight  thousand  thalers. 


One  month  after  this  Uno  returned  to 
the  capital,  when  he  immediately  received 
a  call  from  Ellen's  agent,  for  the  purpose 
of  redeeming  the  notes ;  but  Uno  replied, 
that  he  wished  to  talk  with  Fru  Ochard 
first,  and  accordingly  that  same  afternoon 
he  went  to  Eksholm. 

It  was  a  beautiful  day  in  July,  and 
Ellen  was  spending  it  out  in  the  open  air 
with  her  child. 

The  life  which  she  led  at  Eksholm  was 
very  retired.  Uno  found  her  in  the  little 
park,  to  which  Ingrid  had  shown  him. 
After  he  had  greeted  Ellen  with  his  for- 
mer cordiality,  he  said,  — 

"Forgive  me  for  coming  and  disturb- 
ing you  !  But  I  am  obliged  to  speak 
with  you  on  account  of  a  visit  which 
your  agent  made  me  in  your  behalf.  I 
see  very  well  that  the  commission  did  not 
come  from  Evert,  as  the  notes  are  not 
due  before  five  years.  Evert  told  me  at 


106 


THE   WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


his  departure  not  to  deliver  the  notes  to 
any  one  but  him,  as  he  desired  that  you 
should  remain  in  ignorance  of  this  debt. 
How  you  obtained  knowledge  of  it,  I  do 
not  know,  neither  do  I  think  that  I  have 
the  right,  after  the  promise  I  gave  Evert, 
to  let  you  pay  this  debt." 

"  But  if  I  have  obtained  this  charge 
from  him,  then  you  will  certainly  not 
oppose  it  ] " 

"  If  it  were  really  Evert,  who  with  his 
own  means  wished  to  clear  himself  from 
his  debt  to  me,  I  would  then  have  no 
right  to  make  any  objections.  But  if 
you  take  this  debt  upon  you,  with  the 
sacrifice  of  your  private  fortune  of  your 
child's  inheritance,  then  you  ought  to 
allow  me  to  refuse." 

"  That  with  which  I  discharge  Evert's 
debts  will  not  deprive  my  child  of  his  in- 
heritance," answered  Ellen  with  a  slight 
color.  "  But  even  if  it  were  so,  I  believe 
it  is  my  duty  as  well  as  my  son's,  to 
make  a  sacrifice  when  it  is  done  for  the 
advantage  of  my  husband  and  my  child's 
father." 

"  But  there  is  no  necessity  for  paying 
this  debt." 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  matter  of  honor ;  for  my 
husband  ought  not  to  be  your  debtor." 

"  Ellen,  Ellen,  what  is  it  you  say  1 " 

"  The  truth.  This  debt  burns  in  my 
heart  like  a  reproach  of  conscience.  Not 
until  it  is  paid  shall  I  breathe  freely." 

"  You  feel  humiliated  because  I  was 
able  to  do  your  husband  this  little  ser- 
vice, and  yet  I  had  believed  that  you 
cherished  friendship  for  me.  Ellen, 
you  do  not  consider  me  a  man  of  honor, 
if  you  are  pained  d,t  my  being  so  happy 
as  to  help  Erert." 

"  Among  all  Evert's  debts  this  to  you 
was  the  only  one  from  which  I  felt  hu- 
miliated. Say  nothing !  Your  own 
heart/  approves  what  I  say,  and  let  us 
not 'waste  further  words  on  the  subject. 
The  debt  shall  be  paid ;  receive  my 
thanks  for  assisting  my  husband  so  mag- 
nanimously." 


Uno  took  her  extended  hand  in  si- 
lence. 

"  Ah  !  if  you  could  imagine  how  hap- 
py I  feel  when  I  now  know  that  Ochard 
has  no  longer  any  debts." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that  ? " 

"  Perfectly."      . 

"  Without  wishing  to  speak  against 
your  husband,  I  will  only  ask,  do  you 
believe  that  he  will  remain  free  from  debt 
long?" 

"  I  hope  so." 

"  You  'hope  !  Ah !  do  you  not  know 
that  the  vain  man,  like  the  drunkard, 
thirsts  for  more,  the  more  he  enjoys. 
The  vain  person  also  resembles  the  gam- 
bler, with  this  difference,  that  the  latter's 
stake  is  always  money,  while  the  gain  of 
the  former  is  never  anything  but  empty 
flattery  ;  still,  like  the  gambler,  he  sacri- 
fices all  in  the  hope  of  winning." 

"  What  you  say  is  true  ;  but  OcHard 
is  no  longer  such  a  gambler.  He  has 
won  flattery  enough,  to  be  able  to  turn 
over  a  new  leaf  without  regret,  and  be- 
come ambitious." 

"  Ambitious  ?  He  has  not  yet  reached 
the  point  where  he  will  be  able  to  re- 
nounce the  moment's  applause  for  a  fu- 
ture glory.  A  more  bitter  experience  in 
the  school  of  life  is  required  for  that." 

"  No,  all  that  is  needed  is  for  him  to 
love  me  and  his  child  ;  and  he  does," 
added  Ellen  mildly  ;  but  a  sad  forebod- 
ing filled  her  heart  of  something  very 
painful  which  yet  remained  for  her. 

Ingrid  now  came  and  announced  a 
Herr  Jonathan  from  Hamburg,  who  had 
just  at  that  moment  arrived  and  asked 
to  see  her  Grace. 

Ellen  and  Uno  went  up  to  the  house. 
In  the  little  saloon  they  found  a  middle- 
aged  man,  whose  face  showed  that  he  was 
a  Jew. 

Herr  Jonathan  bowed  politely  as  they 
entered. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  disturbing  you, 
madam,  but  the  Assessor  gave  me  per- 
mission to  call  upon  his  wile." 


THE  WIFE   OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


107 


"  Did  you  meet  my  husband  in  Ham- 
burg 1 " 

"  We  met  in  Stockholm,  shortly  before 
his  departure  from  Sweden,  which  you 
are  well  aware  of,  I  hope."  Herr  Jona- 
than again  bowed. 

"  No,  sir,  this  is  the  first  time  I  have 
heard  your  name.  If  you  have  any  mes- 
sage from  my  husband,  then  be  so  good 
as  to  communicate  it  to  me." 

"  Is  it  the  first  time  that  you  hear  my 
name1?"  said  Herr  Jonathan,  surprised. 
"  Try  to  remember  if  you  have  not  heard 
it  before,  if  your  husband  has  not  men- 
tioned it  1 " 

"  I  assure  you  that  I  have  never  heard 
him  speak  of  you." 

"What  does  that  mean?"  exclaimed 
the  Jew ;  "  and  yet  I  have  your  security  to 
pay  me  in  the  space  of  two  months  the 
sum  which  I  advanced  to  the  Assessor  at 
his  departure.  If  you,  madam,  did  not 
sign  your  name  yourself,  then  it  is  forged." 
Herr  Jonathan  drew  out  a  paper  and 
showed  Ellen  the  signature. 

Ellen  became  so  unnaturally  pale,  that 
Uno  rose  involuntarily,  for  he  feared  that 
she  would  faint.  But  she  was  not  one  of 
those  who  are  ready  to  swoon  on  every 
occasion  ;  she  did  not  have  weak  nerves, 
consequently  she  soon  recovered  herself 
and  said,  — 

"  It  is  very  true  that  I  wrote  this  se- 
curity, but  I  had  entirely  forgotten  the 
name  of  the  person  to  whom  it  was  made 
out." 

"  Perhaps  the  amount  also,"  returned 
Herr  Jonathan  with  a  mien  which  drove 
the  blood  to  Ellen's  cheeks.  With  a  ges- 
ture full  of  dignity  she  rose  and  said,  — 

"  Be  so  kind  as  to  name  the  amount 
of  the  debt,  and  you  shall  receive  the 
payment.  This,  sir,  is  all  that  you  need 
to  know." 

"Five  thousand  riks  thalers,  besides 
the  interest." 

Elian  went  to  her  writing-table  and 
wrote  an  order  upon  the  merchant,  with 
whom  she  still  had  eight  thousand  riks 


thalers,   all   that   remained  of  her  for- 
tune. 

"  There  it  is,  sir,  and  you  may  give 

Merchant  D my  husband's  note  as 

a  quittance." 

At  the  same  moment  Ellen  handed 
Jonathan  the  order,  an  old  man  stepped 
between  them. 

. "  Wait  a  little,  sir,"  said  the  old  gen- 
tleman. "  Be  so  good  as  to  show  me  my 
son's  note  of  hand  with  my  daughter-in- 
law's  signature." 

"  You  here,  my  father  ! "  exclaimed 
Ellen,  with  an  expression  of  anguish. 
"It  is  unnecessary  for  you  to  see  the 
note,"  added  she  beseechingly.  "  The 
debt  is  paid,  and  — 

"  I  will  see  it,"  said  the  old  man  has- 
tily. "Herr  Jonathan  I  am  'medical 
councillor '  of  Ochard  and  the  father  of 
the  Assessor.  You  ought  to  consider 
that  I  have  some  right  to  be  obeyed  in 
this  house." 

Herr  Jonathan  handed  the  note  to  the 
old  gentleman,  who  looked  at  the  signa- 
ture a  moment  and  then  said  with  a 
forced  smile,  — 

"  I  thank  you,  sir ;  all  is  as  I  sup- 
posed." 

Jonathan  bowed  and  left  the  room. 
A  few  moments  dreary  silence  ensued, 
during  which  the  old  man  regarded  Ellen 
with  an  expression  of  both  grief  and 
severity.  She  stood  before  him  with 
downcast  eyes,  and  the  paleness  of  death 
on  her  brow.  Finally  he  seized  her  arm 
as  he  said,  — 

"  I  have  a  few  words  to  say  to  you  in 
private,  follow  me  in  to  your  child." 

Ellen  looked  at  her  father-in-law  with 
an  expression  full  of  anguish,  as  if  she 
had  wished  to  pray  for  mercy ;  but  the 
old  man  seemed  to  be  insensible  to  it, 
and  they  both  left  the  room. 

Uno  had  kept  at  a  distance,  in  order 
not   to  increase  the  bitterness   of  their 
grief  by  reminding  them   that  he  waa 
present. 
When  Ellen  and  her  father-in-law  had 


108 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAX. 


entered  the  cabinet,  he  closed  the  door 
behind  them,  and  without  saying  a  word 
went  to  Ingrid,  who  sat  by  the  window 
playing  with  little  Elon,  took  the  boy  in 
his  arms,  and  made  a  gesture  of  dismissal 
to  Ingrid,  who  immediately  left  the 
room. 

When  the  door  closed  after  her,  he  said 
in  a  serious  voice,  — 

"  You  did  not  sign  your  name  to  the 
note.  It  was  not  your  handwriting." 
The  old  man's  eyes  were  fastened  sharp- 
ly on  Ellen,  who  at  these  words  trembled 
like  a  criminal.  With  a  violent  effort 
she  answered,  — 

"  Ochard  wrote  it  with  my  permis- 
sion." 

"You lie,  unfortunate  woman, ".shrieked 
the  old  man,  pale  with  auger ;  "  you  wish, 
in  your  blind  affection,  to  free  him  by 
falsehood  ;  but  one  cannot  deceive  me  so 
easily.  Lay  your  hand  on  your  child's 
head  and  say  that  he  *vrote  your  name 
with  your  permission." 

Ellen  remained  motionless. 

"  You  cannot  answer.  I  knew  it  well 
enough,  unhappy  man  that  I  am  !  My 
only  son,  whom  I  loved  so  deeply,  is  then 
a  spendthrift,  an  impostor,  a  forger  ! " 
He  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and 
threw  himself  down  on  the  sofa. 

"  0  my  father,"  exclaimed  Ellen,  fall- 
ing on  her  knees,  "do  not  speak  so  !  Is 
not  all  that  I  possess  my  husband's  also  1 
One  cannot  call  him  a  forger,  if  he  uses 
his  wife's  name.  No,  no,  I  had  told  him 
that  what  was  mine  was  also  his.  0,  you 
must  not  be  angry  or  accuse  him  !  He  is 
inconsiderate,  that  is  all." 

"  Hush,  do  not  try  to  excuse  him  ;  for 
I  know  all,  all  understand.  I  know  that 
it  is  you  who  paid  back  the  money  he 
dissipated  for  his  sisters,  that  he  has 
ruined  you,  that  he  is  a  contemptible 
fool,  who  sacrifices  everything  to  his 
vanity.  0,  that  I  should  be  obliged 
to  live  to  cur  —  " 

"  Hold  !  "  exclaimed  Ellen  terrified. 

"  You  must  not  be  angry,"  said  little 


Elon,  going  to  the  old  man  ;  "  for  mamma 
has  said  that  God  does  not  like  those  who 
are  angry  and  naughty." 

This  tender,  weak,  innocent  child's 
voice,  which  raised  itself  in  the  midst  of 
the  tumult  of  violent  feelings  and  ut- 
tered God's  name,  had  a  singular  effect 
on  the  old  father.  He  again  buried  his 
face  in  his  hands,  but  he  now  sobbed  like 
a  child;  Ellen  wept  too,  wept  bitterly, 
with  her  head  leaning  against  his  shoul- 
der. Suddenly  both  felt  a  pair  of 
little  childish  hands  patting  them,  and 
Elon  said,  — 

"  Do  not  cry,  do  not  cry  ! "  Ellen 
raised  her  tear-drenched  face,  smiled  at 
the  child,  and  placed  him  on  the  old  man's 
knee,  saying,  — 

"Ask  grandpa  not  to  be  angry  with 
papa !  " 

Elon  twined  his  arms  around  his  neck 
and  said,  — 

"  Dear  grandpa,  you  must  not  be  an- 
gry with  papa  !  " 

Ochard  took  his  hands  from  his  face 
and  looked  at  the  child  a  moment  through 
his  tears,  then  pressed  a  kiss  on  his  brow- 
as  he  said,  — 

"  Your  prayer  is  heard.  God  bless 
and  preserve  you,  child  ! "  Then  he 
turned  to  Ellen  and  added  in  an  unsteady 
voice,  "  God  reward  you,  my  daughter  !  " 

He  put  Elon  down  and  said  to  Ellen,  — 

"  Now  leave  me  alone  awhile,  my 
child." 

Ellen  understood  that  he  needed  to  be 
alone  in  order  to  calm  his  perturbed  mind ; 
therefore,  without  saying  a  word,  she 
carried  his  hand  to  her  lips,  and,  taking 
her  son  with  her,  left  the  room. 

As  she  left  the  cabinet  she  tried  to 
give  her  face  a  calmer  expression ;  but 
her  feelings  were  too  violently  agitated 
for  her  to  be  able  at  once  to  efface  from 
her  features  the  grief  which  filled  her 
soul.  With  a  fruftless  effort  to  smile 
she  advanced  to  Uno,  who  still  remained 
standing  at  the  same  window  in  the  sa- 
loon. 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


109 


"  Pardon  me,  Uno,  for  forgetting  all 
politeness  to  my  guest,"  said  she  ;  "  but  I 
was  obliged  to  accompany  my  father-in- 
law,  to  explain  my  great  thoughtlessness 
in  not  remembering  my  obligation,  thus 
exposing  my  husband's  honor,  not  only 
in  the  eyes  of  that  man,  but  also  before 
Evert's  father  and  —  " 

"  Hush,  Ellen,  why  this  excuse  !  Do 
you  then  think  that  I  do  not  know  the 
paltry  character  of  this  man  whom  you 
defend  and  for  whom  you  sacrifice  your- 
self? Yes,  Ellen,  I  know  him  thorough- 
ly, and  it  is  time  that  you  did  also,  be- 
fore he  leads  you  to  an  abyss  which  will 
ingulf  you  all.  No  sacrifice  on  your 
part  will  touch  him.  So  long  as  you 
possess  anything  to  offer,  he  will  force 
you  to  do  everything  to  gratify  his  van- 
ity and  extravagance.  Ah  then,  Ellen, 
realize  at  once  that  you  must  leave  him 
to  his  fate,  if  you  wish  to  save  anything 
for  your  child." 

"  Never  shall  I  abandon  him ;  never 
so  long  as  I  am  able  will  I  withdraw 
from  him  the  help  and  the  deliverance 
which  he  has  a  right  to  demand  of  me." 

"  And  your  child  1  " 

"  God  will  protect  him,  if  I  do  my  du- 
ty ;  but  poorly  should  I  fulfil  it  if  his 
father  was  left  a  victim  to  disgrace." 
Ellen  bent  down  and  wept. 

"  0  Ellen,  your  tears  burn  my  soul ; 
and  this  man,  without  honor,  without 
heart,  has  dared  to  draw  them  forth  !  " 

Uno  approached  Ellen  and  took  one  of 
her  hands,  adding,  — 

"  I  would  give  a  year  of  my  life  to  be 
able  to  dry  them." 

"  Uno,"  said  she,  raising  her  head, 
"  have  respect  for  my  grief  and  speak  no 
more  about  it." 

Ingrid  entered  hastily  and  said,  with 
fright  depicted  in  her  countenance, 
"  Herr  Ochard  lies  senseless  there  in 
the  cabinet."  Scarcely  were  the  words 
passed  her  lips  before  Ellen  was  at  the 
old  man's  side.  Uno  threw  himself  on  his 
horse  and  rode  to  town  after  a  physician. 


Evert's  father  had  a  stroke  of  paraly- 
sis, but  regained  consciousness  a  few 
hours  after  the  physician  arrived.  His 
first  clear  thought  was  to  request  to 
speak  with  Count  Uno  Kerner. 

Uno,  who  had  returned  with  the  doc- 
tor, went  immediately  to  the  sick  man, 
who  spoke  with  great  difficulty.  When 
Uno  stood  by  his  bed,  he  made  a  sign  to 
Ellen  and  the  doctor  to  leave  the  room. 
Uno  bent  down  over  him  as  soon  as  they 
were  alone,  and  the  old  man  murmured, 
in  a  scarcely  audible  voice,  — 

"  Send  —  the  letter  —  to  —  my  son.  — 
I  —  wrote  it — when  —  I  fell  sick.  —  Add 
to  it  —  that  —  I  — •  died  —  without  — 
cursing  him. — Ellen  prayed. — The  letter 
—  lies  —  in  the  —  other  room  —  on  the 
table.  —  Promise  —  " 

"  I  promise  sacredly  to  fulfil  your 
wish,"  said  Uno,  pressing  his  hand. 

"  Thanks  !  " 

A  few  moments  afterwards  he  again 
lost  the  power  of  speech. 

With  a  daughter's  tenderness  and  love, 
Ellen  watched  by  his  sick-bed.  She  did 
not  leave  him  a  moment,  and  the  grate- 
ful look  which  he  fixed  upon  her  said 
more  than  words.  On  the  fifth  day, 
Ellen,  with  deep  sorrow  in  her  heart, 
knelt  by  her  father-in-law's  death-bed, 
this  father  who  had  died  of  grief  over  his 
son's  bad  deeds.  Poor  Ellen  felt  this 
with  deep  pain,  and  his  loss  became  still 
more  bitter  at  this  consciousness.  How 
warm  and  fervent  was  the  prayer  which 
she  sent  up  as  she  knelt  by  the  side  of 
the  departed  !  She  remained  there  still 
when  Ingrid  opened  the  door  and  ap- 
proached her. 

"  Little  Elon  does  not  feel  very  well," 
said  the  girl  in  a  trembling  voice.  Ellen 
started  up. 

In  a  few  moments  she  again  sat  by  a 
sick-bed,  and  this  time  it  was  her  child's. 
Overwhelmed  with  grief  and  despair,  she 
listened  to  her  child's  short  breath  and 
felt  his  hot  brow. 

"Elon's  head  aches,"  stammered  the 


110 


THE   WIFE   OF  A   VAIN   MAX. 


boy,  and  reached  his  arms  to  his  mother. 
An  hour  later  the  doctor  came.  The  boy 
had  the  scarlet  fever. 

What  a  period  of  fearful  anguish  for 
poor  Ellen  !  It  seemed  to  her  that  she 
could  have  borne  all  patiently,  that  she 
could  have  submitted  to  anything,  if  she 
had  only  been  allowed  to  keep  her  child. 
But  while  she  prayed  to  God  so  fervently 
not  to  take  her  darling  from  her,  she 
bowed  her  heart  humbly  before  the  Di- 
vine will,  and  thought,  "  Father,  not  my 
wilt,  but  thine  be  done  "  ;  and  the  Supreme 
Being  took  little  Elon  from  this  life  and 
folded  him  in  his  fatherly  arms. 

The  senior  Ochard  was  not  yet  buried 
•when  his  grandson's  child-soul  took 
wings  and  ascended  to  its  true  home. 


Completely  crushed  by  sorrow,  the 
mother  clasped  the  little  cold  corpse  to 
her  heart,  as  if  to  warm  and  revive  it 
with  her  kisses  and  caresses.  No  tears 
came  to  relieve  the  most  boundless  of 
all  grief,  —  that  of  a  mother  who  loves 
her  child. 

Without  a  sound  Ellen  rose  when  they 
told  her  that  she  must  part  with  her 
child's  lifeless  form.  She  kissed  it  once 
more  on  the  pale  brow,  and  whispered 
with  clasped  hands,  — 

"  The  Lord  gave  and  the  Lord  takes. 
His  will  be  done  ! " 


In  the  evening  Uno  wrote  the  follow- 
ing letter  to  Evert :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  OCHARD  :  I  ought  to  have 
sent  you  the  enclosed  letter  from  your 
father  a  week  ago,  according  to  the 
charge  he  gave  me  on  his  death-bed.  He 
was  struck  with  paralysis  while  writing 
it,  so  terribly  was  he  affected  by  the  con- 
sciousness that  his  son  had  not  only  sac- 
rificed his  whole  life  and  fortune,  and  his 


wife  and  child's  future,  but,  what  is  worst 
of  all,  his  honor  and  his  conscience,  all  to 
satisfy  the  paltry  claims  of  a  miserable 
vanity.  You  have  through  this  been  the 
cause  of  your  father's  death ;  but  this  is 
not  all.  You  have  no  longer  a  child, 
and  will  probably  lose  your  wife  also, 
who,  prostrated  by  sorrow  and  grief,  lies 
dangerously  ill.  If  there  is  a  spark  of 
honor  and  manliness  yet  left  in  you,  stop 
in  your  wretched  career,  and  do  not  con- 
tinue a  life  which  has  been  the  cause  of 
so  much  sorrow  and  cost  such  immense 
sacrifices.  You  could  have  been  your 
father's  pride,  your  wife's  happiness,  if 
you  had  not,  in  your  heedless  desire  for 
the  flattery  of  fools,  sacrificed  everything 
that  an  upright  man  considers  sacred. 
See  to  it  that  you  preserve  the  words 
of  your  departed  father  in  your  heart, 
and  take  care  not  to  forget  how  much 
your  frivolity  has  cost  your  wife ;  for 
then  I  might  feel  the  desire  to  remind 
you  of  it  more  forcibly. 

"UNO'KERXER." 


ONE  YEAR  LATER. 

The  September  sun  shone  mildly  over 
the  Lbda  estate  On  a  slope  in  the 
park  lay  a  young  woman,  with  her 
dreamy  and  melnncholy  gaze  fixed  upon 
the  fast-retreating  clouds.  A  deep  sub- 
mission could  be  read  in  the  pale  fea- 
tures, and  one  saw  that  she  had  ceased 
to  hope  anything  from  this  world.  Her 
look  expressed  a  thoughtfulness  which 
showed  plainly  that  her  sorrow  had  .led 
her  to  deep  and  serious  reflections  upon 
life.  We  scarcely  need  to  say  that  this 
woman  was  Ellen.  A  little  over  a  year 
had  elapsed  since  she  lost  her  child. 
She  was  spending  the  summer  at  Lbda 
with  the  Kerners,  while  Count  Rubens 
remained  abroad  with  his  newly  married 
daughter. 

Evert  had  not  yet  returned  from  his 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


Ill 


foreign  journey,  as  he  had  fallen  ill  at 
the  intelligence  of  the  death  of  his  father 
and  child,  and  after  his  recovery  had 
been  compelled  to  go  to  Italy  in  order 
completely  to  restore  his  weak  health. 

Ellen  was  so  absorbed  in  the  contem- 
plation of  the  sky,  that  she  did  not  hear 
the  sound  of  steps  which  approached. 
She  started  when  a  sonorous  manly  voice 
said,  — 

"  Ellen,  I  bring  a  letter  with  me, 
therefore  I  have  sought  you." 

She  turned  toward  the  one  who  ad- 
dressed her. 

"  Ah  !  Uncle  Oscar,  how  good  you  are  ! 
From  Evert,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is." ,  Count  Oscar  Kerner 
threw  himself  down  in  the  grass  at  a 
little  distance  from  Ellen,  and  handed 
her  the  letter.  He  continued  :  "  To  be 
frank,  that  was  not  the  reason  why  I 
sought  you,  but  in  order  to  say  to  you 
some  friendly  words." 

"You  have  always  been  such  a  good 
friend  to  me,  Uncle."  She  gave  him  her 
hand. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  you  abandon 
yourself  to  your  sorrow  too  much.  You 
allow  it  to  govern  you  exclusively,  and 
that  is  not  right  in  a  Christian,  who 
ought  to  bow  beneath  trial  with  patience 
and  submission.  You  are  still  young, 
and  have  much  to  live  for." 

"  Not  much,  Uncle ;  but  I  ought  to 
live,  because  it  is  God's  will,  and  I  shall 
hereafter,  as  hitherto,  bear  my  loss  with- 
out repining  or  complaint,  fully  con- 
vinced that  if  God  had  considered  me 
worthy  to  keep  my  child,  he  would  have 
allowed  it  to  live.  I  bend  beneath  his 
will." 

"Yes,  you  bend,  but  without  endeav- 
oring to  raise  yourself  again." 

"For  that  I  lack  strength."  A  tear 
ran  down  her  cheek. 

"  It  will  not  be  so,  if  you  consider 
how  many  duties  you  have  as  a  wife  yet 
unfulfilled." 

"I  shall  try  to  perform  them.     If  I 


cannot,  it  will  not  be  from  lack  of  will, 
but  of  power." 

"  You  have  entered  upon  a  wrong 
road.  You  are  humble  ;  but  an  inactive 
humility  is  not  right.  Take  a  look  at 
your  present  position.  You  have  a  hus- 
band, weak,  vain,  and  foolish,  it  is  true ; 
but  if  you  continue  with  this  indifference 
to  conform  to  his  will,  he  will  forget  the 
impression  which  the  loss  of  his  father 
and  child  made  upon  him,  and  at  his 
return  here  again  will  begin  that  extrava- 
gant manner  of  life,  the  result  of  which 
has  been  that  out  of  your  whole  fortune 
you  only  retain  the  little  remnant  which 
was  saved  through  your  prudence  and 
resolution.  No,  you  have  an  aim,  a 
beautiful,  a  glorious  aim,  which  you  ought 
to  strive  with  full  soul-strength  to  attain, 
and  that  is,  to  endeavor  so  to  guide  your 
husband  that  he  may  aspire  towards  a 
nobler  satisfaction  for  his  vanity  than  the 
one  which  he  has  hitherto  sought." 

"  So  did  I  once  think  ;  but  I  was  mis- 
taken. All  my  efforts  continued  without 
effect  upon  him.  I  no  longer  entertain 
any  hope  of  being  able  to  save  him. 
All !  I  was  so  happy  as  long  as  I  hoped, 
but  when  —  " 

"  But  the  occurrence  with  the  note 
shook  your  faith  1 " 

Ellen  started  and  looked  at  him. 

"Who  has  mentioned  that1?" 

"  The  one  who  was  witness  to  the 
scene  between  you  and  Jonathan." 

"  Uno  ! " 

"But  he  has  not  spoken  of  it  to  any 
one  except  me.  Necessity  forced  him  to 
it,  when  your  illness  made  it  indispensa- 
ble for  some  one  to  take  charge  of  your 
affairs.  I  did  it,  as  you  know,  xmder 
the  full  conviction  that  you  wished  it  all 
to  be  done  without  notice,  and  without 
exciting  Emy's  anxiety.  In  order  that  I 
should  be  able  to  accomplish  this,  and  to 
give  me  a  plain  idea  of  your  situation, 
Uno  told  me  what  he  knew.  Well,  then, 
now  be  the  one,  in  spite  of  all  Ochard's 
faults,  to  enlighten  him  with  your  clear 


112 


THE   WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


understanding  in  regard  to  the  way 
which  he  ought  to  choose,  when,  erelong, 
he  returns  and  is  again  surrounded  by 
flatterers  who  mislead  his  judgment. 
The  letter  which  his  father  wrote,  and 
the  news  of  your  illness  and  the  death 
of  his  child,  seem  to  have  had  an  effect 
upon  him,  for  since  his  sickness  he  has 
lived  both  a  retired  and  economical  life. 
Your  future  depends  upon  the  influence 
which  you  can  acquire  over  him  on  his 
return.  Do  not  let  an  unreasonable  sor- 
row make  you  forget  your  duty." 

Ellen  had  listened  to  the  Count's 
words  with  a  thoughtful  aspect.  When 
he  finished,  she  gave  him  her  hand  and 
said,  — 

"  I  shall  imprint  your  words  deep  in 
my  memory,  and  try  to  suit  my  conduct 
to  them.  Would  to  God  that  I  could 
once  more  hope  !  " 

"  We  can  always  hope,  and  ought  to 
do  so." 

"  Yes,  in  God  j  but  not  depend  upon 
ourselves." 

"  If  you  hope  with  full  trust  in  God, 
you  will  also  find  courage  and  strength 
to  fulfil  the  charge  which  he  has  laid 
upon  you." 

"  I  will  endeavor  to  do  this." 

"  Good,  then  I  am  content.  I  will 
now  leave  you,  that  you  may  read  your 
husband's  letter  undisturbed." 


In  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day 
Ellen  and  Uno,  who  was  also  spending 
the  summer  at  Loda,  sat  out  on  the  ter- 
race. Ellen's  face  was  calmer  and  less 
sad  than  usual. 

"How  changed  everything  is  in  the 
space  of  a  few  years,"  said  Uno.  "  I  re- 
member so  clearly  our  first  visit  here, 
and  especially  one  afternoon  when  we 
sat  together  on  this  very  terrace.  You 
then  made  a  hard  accusation  against  me. 
Nine  years  have  elapsed  since  then,  and 
both  you  and  I  have  obtained  an  entire- 


ly different  view  of  life.  The  only 
unchangeable  things  in  this  world  are 
our  feelings." 

"I  even  doubt  their  steadfastness," 
said  Ellen.  "  They  shift  and  change 
color  with  an  ease  which  troubles  me." 

"  Not  the  deep  and  real  feelings,  only 
the  false." 

"  And  which  are  the  real  ] " 

"  A  mother's  love  for  her  child  never 
changes,  neither  does  the  feeling  of  love 
and  admiration  which  a  high-minded  and 
noble  woman  inspires." 

"The  same  woman  who  appears  to 
one  high-minded  is  in  the  eyes  of  an- 
other weak.  The  only  thing  stable  in 
life  is  instability." 

"  So  you  do  not  believe  in  the  stabili- 
ty of  love  1 " 

"  Yes,  if  it  is  real.  But  we  so  often 
take  the  enthusiasm  of  the  moment  for 
love.  We  confound  the  false  and  the 
true  so  easily." 

"  Yes,  we  certainly  confound  the  false 
with  the  true  very  often.  But  why  ] 
Because  we  allow  ourselves  to  be  bound 
and  governed  by  prejudices.  So,  for  ex- 
ample, you  consider  it  your  duty  to 
dismiss  every  feeling  which  might  warm 
and  cheer  your  heart,  by  reserving  your 
attachment  exclusively  for  your  hus- 
band." 

"And  this  is  no  false  conception  of 
my  duty." 

"But  false  in  its  basis,  because  the 
whole  power  of  your  will  is  not  able  to 
exclude  the  need  of  love  from  your 
heart." 

"  My  heart  needs  no  other  object  than 
the  mate  whom  I  have  chosen  of  free 
will." 

"  We  do  not  love  the  one  whom  we  do 
not  respect,  and  you  cannot  do  other-: 
wise  than  despise  your  husband." 

"  Uno  ! "  Ellen  looked  at  him  sternly, 
while  his  gaze  rested  on  her  with  a  pas- 
sionate expression. 

"  Ellen,  you  must  hear  the  truth.  I 
have  neither  will  nor  desire  to  keep  it 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


113 


longer  to  myself,  and  why  should  1 1  I 
love  you  warmly  and  eternally ;  I  have 
loved  you  ever  since  I  first  saw  you. 
My  reverence  for  you  has  held  back  every 
declaration,  and  when  such  words  once 
slipped  over  my  lips,  your  will  was  suf- 
ficient to  send  me  from  you.  My  love 
was  too  strong,  however,  and  I  returned 
to  breathe  the  same  air  that  you  breathe, 
to  live  at  least  in  the  moment  when  I 
saw  you.  Ah  !  Ellen,  Ellen,  how  have  I 
suffered  ;  and  what  is  my  reward  1  Shall 
then  this  man,  without  honor  and  feeling, 
also  deprive  me  of  the  only  felicity  which 
can  be  mine,  that  of  knowing  that  your 
heart  has  a  spark  of  the  love  which  is 
at  once  my  torment  and  my  bliss  1  Be 
true  for  once,  express  what  your  heart 
conceals  ;  I  will  then  remain  still,  and 
never  shall  a  word  of  my  feelings  pass 
my  lips.  Happy  in  the  consciousness 
of  being  loved  by  you,  I  shall  feel  con- 
tent with  only  being  allowed  to  tarry  in 
your  vicinity,  because  I  shall  then  know 
that  our  hearts  beat  with  the  same  feel- 
ing. Whom  would  it  really  offend1? 
Say,  Ellen,  could  even  the  angels  frown 
upon  it?" 

"  God  would,"  said  Ellen  slowly,  and 
leaned  back  against  the  seat. 

"  Do  not  name  God  !  "  exclaimed  Uno 
passionately ;  "  love,  the  pure,  the  true, 
cannot  excite  his  anger.  Why  continu- 
ally shun  the  truth  ]  I  know  that  you 
love  me ;  why  then  not  have  courage  to 
confess  it  1 " 

"  Very  well,  Uno,  I  shall  have  the 
cruel  courage  to  utter  the  truth  before 
you.  You  desire  it,  may  you  have  it  as 
you  wish.  You  ask  me,  the  married 
woman,  to  acknowledge  a  love  for  you, 
which  if  it  existed  would  be  my  disgrace. 
You  command  me  to  taste  the  forbidden 
fruit,  and  yet  you  said  just  now,  'We 
cannot  love  the  one  whom  we  do  not  re- 
spect,' and  you  wish  me  to  make  myself 
contemptible.  Go ;  Uno,  I  do  not  believe 
in  your  love ;  for  had  it  been  pure  and 
strong,  from  respect  to  me  you  would 


never  have  demanded  that  I  should  de- 
grade myself  out  of  weakness  for  you." 
She  rose  and  left  him,  without  his  try- 
ing to  hinder  her. 


The  next  day  Count  Oscar  proposed 
that  they  should  all  ride  to  Holmvik,  as 
Couut  Rubens  had  that  day  returned 
from  his  journey  abroad.  The  proposal 
was  accepted,  and  directly  after  dinner 
the  little  cavalcade  was  in  motion.  The 
Count  and  Countess  rode  first,  Ellen  and 
Uno  following.  Alma  and  her  betrothed 
had  ridden  over  to  Holmvik  in  the  morn- 
ing. Sappho,  who  loved  a  fast  ride,  gave 
her  horse  free  rein,  so  that  she  and  Os- 
car were  soon  far  ahead  of  Ellen  and  Uno. 
As  they  entered  the  woods,  a  dog  in  pur- 
suit of  a  hare  came  running  out,  and 
crossed  the  road  right  before  their  horses. 
Frightened  by  this,  Ellen's  horse  reared, 
and  Uno's  made  such  a  sudden  spring  to 
the  side,  that  the  Count,  who  was  entirely 
unprepared  for  this  motion,  was  thrown 
from  the  saddle.  The  horse,  freed  from 
his  burden,  dashed  on,  leaving  his  rider 
senseless-  on  the  ground.  With  one 
bound  Ellen  was  at  his  side.  She  called 
to  Sappho  and  Oscar  as  loud  as  she  could, 
but  they  did  not  hear  her.  Kneeling  by 
the  fainting  man,  with  his  head  pressed 
against  her  heart,  she  tried  to  recall  him 
to  consciousness  by  rubbing  his  temples. 
At  last  a  sigh  heaved  his  breast,  and  he 
opened  his  eyes. 

"  Uno,    speak,    say  a  word,    a   single 
word,  that  you  are  not  hurt,"  said  Ellen, " 
in  a  voice  full  of  anguish. 

He  closed  his  eyes  as  if  some  violent 
pain  had  forced  him  to  do  it. 

"  Uno,  my  beloved,"  faltered  Ellen,  as 
he  remained  motionless.  These  words, 
uttered  in  a  tone  of  grief  and  despair, 
seemed  to  exert  a  magic  influence  upon 
him  ;  for  he  looked  up  immediately  with 
a  glance  which  made  her  tremble. 

"  How  are  you  ? "  whispered  she.       -4r 


114 


THE  WIFE  OP  A  VAIN  MAN. 


"Well.  0,  that  I  might  now  die; 
you  would  then  not  have  time  to  take 
back  your  words." 

"  I  shall  not  take  them  back,"  replied 
she,  while  a  flood  of  tears  washed  her 
cheeks  when  she  saw  him  become  still 
paler. 

Oscar  and  Sappho  now  reached  the 
spot.  The  loose  horse  had  run  past  them 
and  made  them  turn  back. 

Uno  had  struck  his  head  in  falling  and 
sprained  his  arm,  so  that  he  was  obliged 
to  go  back  to  Loda. 


A  week  after  this  event  Ellen  entered 
the  saloon,  where  Uno  sat  with  his  arm 
in  a  sling.  The  Kerners  had  gone  to 
pay  a  visit. 

"  Why,  Ellen  ! "  He  reached  her  his 
well  hand.  "  I  thought  that  you  were 
away  with  the  others." 

"  No,  Uno,  I  stayed  at  home,  because 
an  explanation  must  take  place  between 
us." 

"You  come  to  take  back  the  words 
which  your  fright  drew  forth;  is  it  not 
so?" 

"  I  never  take  back  any  words  which 
go  over  my  lips.  If  the  truth  has,  against 
my  will,  forced  its  way  from  the  depth  of 
my  heart,  I  will  never  contradict  it." 

"  0,  s"ay  that  once  more  !  Say  that 
you  love  me  !  Let  me  again  hear  these 
words,  which  contain  all  that  life  has  for 
me  of  felicity,"  exclaimed  Uno  with  trans- 
port, and  covered  her  hand  with  kisses. 
But  she  drew  it  away  with  a  gesture  full 
of  noble  dignity. 

"  Yes,  I  love  you  as  I  ought  never  to 
love  any  one  but  my  husband,"  said  she 
with  deep  seriousness.  As  Uno  made  a 
movement  to  take  her  hand  again,  she 
raised  it  with  a  warding-off  gesture,  and 
continued  :  "  Hear  me,  and  be  still.  I 
am  not  one  of  those  women,  who  in  a 
forbidden  love  seek  a  recompense  for  the 
self-deception  which  blinded  them.  No, 


the  acknowledgment  that  I  love  you  in- 
volves an  eternal  separation." 

"  Never,  never  shall  I  part  with  you. 
No,  I  will  follow  you  like  your  shadow, 
as  silent  and  faithful." 

"  And  make  my  life  a  curse  to  me. 
No ;  you  would  then  no  longer  be  dan- 
gerous to  my  heart,  for  I  should  consider 
you  a  pitiful  slave  to  a  selfish  passion. 
You  would  no  longer  be  the  man  of  hon- 
or whom  I  esteemed,  if  yoxi  pursued  a 
woman  who,  in  an  unguarded  moment,  had 
let  you  perceive  the  feeling  which  she 
regarded  as  a  crime.  Listen  to  what  I 
now  have  to  say  to  you  :  in  my  heart  I 
have  betrayed  the  faith  which  I  owed  my 
husband.  Do  not  make  me  more  unhap- 
py than  I  already  am  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  my  guilt  by  staying  near  me  and 
constantly  reminding  me  that  there  is 
one  person  who  can  think,  This  woman 
is  in  heart  a  faithless  wife.  Be  magnan- 
imous, and  put  a  distance  between  us 
sufficiently  great  for  me  to  be  able  to 
struggle  with  and  conquer  a  weakness 
which  I  shall  regret  until  my  death." 

"  And  if  I  lack  strength  for  this  ! "  said 
Uno  in  a  smothered  voice.  "0  Ellen, 
ask  anything  else,  but  grant  me  at  least 
the  happiness  of  seeing  you  !  " 

"  No.  This  secret  consciousness  on 
each  side  would  contain  such  a  cruel  dis- 
grace for  the  man  whose  wife  I  am,  that 
I  myself  shall  have  the  courage  which 
you  lack,  and  raise  an  insurmountable 
wall  between  us.  On  my  knees  at  his 
feet  I  will  Confess  my  fault,  and  then  fly 
far  hence." 

"  Well  then,  I  will  go  back  to  Spain. 
0,  may  God  make  you  as  happy  as  you 
deserve  ! " 

"And  I  desire,"  added  an  agitated 
voice  behind  them.  Uno  sprang  up  and 
Ellen  turned  round.  Evert  stood  before 
them,  with  a  pale  and  disordered  aspect. 
When  Ellen  saw  her  husband,  she  reached 
both  hands  to  him  with  an  expression  of 
so  much  mild  humility,  that  it  drew 
tears  from  Uno's  and  Evert's  eyes.  The 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


115 


latter  sprang  forward  and  clasped  her  to 
his  breast,  stammering,  — 

"  Forgive  the  cause  of  all  that  you 
have  suffered  !  of  all  that  has  happened  ! 
I  know  that  I  alone  am  guilty." 

"  How  easy  to  forgive,  when  we  need 
forgiveness  ourselves  ! "  whispered  Ellen, 
weeping,  with  her  head  leaning  against 
her  husband's  breast. 


In  the  space  of  a  few  days  Ellen  and 
Evert  sat  in  their  abode  in  Stockholm. 

"  Ah  !  Ellen,  with  what  a  chain  of  sor- 
rows have  I  not  weighed  you  down ; 
how  have  I  not  embittered  your  life,  and 
through  my  weakness  estranged  your 
heart  from  me,  destroyed  your  property, 
and  yet  felt  incensed  against  you  for  try- 
ing to  check  me." 

"All  is  forgotten  and  atoned  for  if  you 
only  love  me  sufficiently  not  to  allow  your- 
self to  be  tempted  to  neglect  me  for  the 
world's  pleasures  and  flattery.  We  are 
still  young,  happiness  may  yet  bloom  for 
us." 

"  You  good,  incomparable  wife  !  "  said 
Evert,  and  kissed  her  hand.  But  Ellen 
saw  that  there  was  a  constraint  in  his 
very  heartiness,  a  certain  fear,  the  origin 
of  which  she  with  her  natural  fine  feeling 
divined.  She  took  one  of  his  hands  and 
folded  it  in  both  hers,  saying  with  inde- 
scribable gentleness,  — 

"  Evert,  I  read  your,  heart  and  find 
that  you  do  not  rightly  know  how  we  are 
to  regulate  our  life  henceforth.  You  fear 
that  I  wish  to  lay  down  laws  for  yon, 
but  you  are  mistaken.  I  have  cancelled 
our  marriage  settlement,  for  I  saw  that 
this  division  of  property  is  a  cause  of 
dissension  and  occasions  much  evil." 

"Ellen,  what  magnanimity,  after  all 
that  has  occurred  !  " 

"  After  all  that  has  transpired  I  hope 
that  you  will  not  resume  a  manner  of 
life  which  has  been  the  source  of  so  much 
sorrow  for  us  both." 


"  But  my  present  position  does  not  al- 
low me  to  —  to  —  lead  a  retired  life." 

"  Neither  do  I  require  it ;  but  there  is 
a  great  difference  between  living  in  the 
world  and  shining  in  the  world.  Your 
pecuniary  condition  and  your  place  in  the 
community  demand  that  you  shall  not 
lead  an  altogether  retired  life ;  but  your 
dignity  as  a  man  and  office-holder  would 
suffer  if  you  went  back  to  your  former 
life,  which  would  also  be  attended  with 
complete  financial  ruin.  Your  vanity 
must  not  for  the  praise  of  the  moment 
sacrifice  the  greater  and  more  important 
aim,  which  you  ought  to  have  before 
your  eyes,  namely,  to  stand  forth  as  an 
active  and  useful  member  of  society." 

Ellen  struck  a  new  chord  in  the  vain 
man's  heart  with  these  words.  Yes,  he 
would  appear  as  one  who  had  received 
from  the  state  so  many  and  so  important 
affairs  to  attend  to,  that  every  moment 
of  his  precious  time  was  taken  up,  and 
he  could  only  devote  a  few  very  brief  mo- 
ments to  society. 

The  office  which  he  held  was  especially 
well  suited  to  the  role  of  this  important 
person.  His  vanity  had  changed  garb, 
but  denied  itself  never.  It  had  now  taken 
upon  itself  a  form  which  in  its  conse- 
quences became  no  less  oppressive  to 
Ellen,  but  which  was  at  least  less  haz- 
ardous for  the  future  Still,  there  was 
now  much  to  reconcile  her  to  her  hus- 
band's boasting,  as  he  discharged  his 
duties  in  a  highly  meritorious  manner 
and  sought  for  his  associates  persons  of 
knowledge  and  culture.  He  wished, 
through  such  association,  to  show  the 
world  his  superiority.  Besides,  he  spent 
more  of  his  time  at  home,  and  Ellen,  with 
her  superior  intellect,  her  clear  insight, 
and  fine  womanly  judgment,  was  often 
the  one  who  guided  his  actions. 

Ellen  herself  had  again  appeared  as  an 
authoress,  and  through  her  success  and 
fame  wove  many  a  leaf  in  the  laurel 
wreath  for  which  Evert  was  striving. 
How  much  this  cold  life,  founded  solely 


116 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


on  reaping  honor,  cost  Ellen,  who  longed 
so  intensely  for  quiet  domestic  happiness, 
her  husband  did  not  suspect.  He  never 
spoke  of  anything  when  they  were  alone 
except  the  success  which  he  enjoyed,  and 
the  applause  bestowed  upon  him  for  his 
ability.  No  word  of  love  or  tenderness 
ever  passed  his  lips  ;  only  now  and  then 
a  remark  about  how  important  she  was 
to  him,  and  how  much  she  contributed  to 
make  his  name  noted. 

How  Ellen's  heart  froze  in  this  home, 
at  the  side  of  this  man  !  But  she  bore 
her  fate  with  a  fortitude  and  a  strength 
which  were  admirable. 

Five  years  elapsed  thus.  The  courted 
and  praised  Ochard  enjoyed  general  re- 
spect and  distinction  as  a  functionary 
who  performed  his  duties  with  so  much 
skill,  zeal,  and  ability,  that  he  was  re- 
garded as  a  richly  endowed  and  deserving 
man. 

Proud  of  the  success  which  attended 
him,  relying  blindly  on  his  good  fortune, 
Evert  advanced  arrogantly  on  the  road 
of  prosperity. 

One  day  when  he  had  obtained  a  new 
and  honorable  promotion,  and  came  home 
elated  over  his  success,  he  felt  suddenly 
indisposed.  In  spite  of  Ellen's  earnest 
entreaty  that  he  should  send  for  a  phy- 
sician and  remain  at  home,  he  went  in- 
stead to  a  grand  supper.  On  the  way 
he  felt  so  ill,  that  he  was  on  the  point 
of  turning  back  as  he  was  ascending  the 
steps;  but  the  thought  of  all  the  con- 
gratulations and  praise  which  awaited 
him  in  consequence  of  his  nomination, 
was  altogether  too  tempting  for  him  to 
have  courage  to  renounce  it. 

Two  hours  after  his  departure  Ellen 
heard  the  carriage  stop  at  the  door,  and 
in  a  few  moments  Evert  entered  the 
saloon  with  a  staggering  step  and  a 
deathly  pale  countenance. 

"  I  was  so  sick  that  I  was  obliged  to 
leave  the  company,"  said  he,  and  threw 
himself  down  on  a  sofa,  pressing  both 
hands  on  his  head. 


The  physician  declared  that  Ochard 
had  taken  a  violent  cold. 

The  man,  spoiled  by  prosperity,  was 
now  compelled  to  take  to  his  bed  and 
exchange  all  the  flattery  and  praise  which 
had  constituted  his  happiness  for  a  couch 
of  pain,  to  which  not  a  single  one  of  his 
many  friends  came;  for  the  doctor  de- 
clared, three  days  after  he  was  attacked, 
that  the  patient  had  the  small-pox.  His 
handsome  face  was  soon  fearfully  dis- 
figured. His  wife  did  not  leave  his  side 
for  a  moment,  but  sat  there  as  his  com- 
forter in  this  bitter  trial.  Suddenly  the 
illness  changed  character  and  seemed  to 
take  a  turn  which  put  his  life  in  danger. 

The  doctor  said  to  Ellen  at  one  of  his 
visits,  — 

"You  must  prepare  yourself  for  the 
worst ;  your  husband's  condition  is  very 
critical." 

One  evening  when  the  fever  had  some- 
what abated  and  Evert  could  understand 
her,  Ellen  tried  in  her  mild  and  loving 
way  to  prepare  him  for  the  possibility 
that  he  might  die.  He  listened  to  her 
in  silence ;  when  she  finished  and  pressed 
his  hand  in  tears,  he  murmured,  — 

"  A  looking-glass  !  " 

Ellen  tried  to  persuade  him  to  refrain 
from  looking  at  himself;  but  he  cried 
with  great  impatience,  — 

"A  glass!" 

Just  then  the  physician  entered ;  and 
not  knowing  so  well  as  Ellen  what 
a  high  value  Ochard  set  on  his  appear- 
ance, he  seized  a  little  hand-glass  and 
held  it  before  him.  Scarcely  had  Ev- 
ert thrown  a  glance  in  it,  before  he 
uttered  a  cry  of  despair.  In  the  night 
the  fever  increased,  and  the  follow- 
ing day  the  physician  no  longer  gave 
any  hope  of  his  recovery.  Once,  in  a 
lucid  moment,  Evert  called  to  his  wife, 
and  when  she  bent  down  over  him  he 
whispered,  — 

"  Promise  to  write  my  —  my  - —  obit- 
uary. —  A  distinguished  man  —  so  do  I 
wish  —  you  to  call  —  me.  Ellen,  prom- 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


117 


ise  —  promise  —  to  write  —  it  —  so  that 

—  you  —  do  me  —  justice  —  " 
"  I  promise,"  faltered  she. 

"  Do  not  —  show  —  my  face  —  no  one 

—  no  one  —  must  be  allowed  —  to  see  it 

—  promise  —  " 

"  All  shall  be  as  you  desire,"  whispered 
she  in  tears. 

"  A  large  — funeral  — in  carriages.   All 

—  the  councillors —  all — from  the  higher 

—  circles.  —  The  obsequies  —  in  —  the 
church  —  of —  of —  " 

The  words  died  away,  they  were  his  last. 


Five  years  had  gone  over  Evert  of 
Ochard's  grave  and  effaced  his  memory 
from  the  hearts  of  his  friends.  This 
name,  of  which  he  had  wished  to  make 
so  much,  was  forgotten ;  and  only  when 
some  acquaintance  visited  the  new  church- 
yard and  read  the  words  on  the  stately 
monument,  was  the  passing  remark  made  : 
"  Is  it  here  that  Ochard  is  buried  ?  He 
was  a  vain  fool  all  his  days  ! "  And  with 
this  they  said  all  that  they  had  to  say 
about  him. 

We  will  do  like  the  world,  leave  him 
to  oblivion  and  the  grave,  and  transport 
ourselves  to  a  more  enlivening  spot  than 
the  resting-place  of  the  dead. 

The  sun  cast  friendly  beams  upon  the 
beautiful  Akershof,  Count  Uno  Kerner's 
estate.  In  the  wide-spread  park,  at  a 
place  where  one  had  a  free  prospect  over 
the  sea,  a  man  and  woman  were  sitting 
at  each  other's  side,  he  of  about  fifty, 
she  forty  years  of  age.  Both  their  faces 
wore  that  expression  of  quiet  peace  which 
domestic  happiness  calls  forth.  She 
leaned  her  head  against  his  shoulder, 
while  her  hand  softly  caressed  a  child, 
which  slumbered  in  the  mother's  lap. 
The  man's  arm  was  twined  around  his 
wife's  waist,  and  both  seemed  absorbed 
in  that  peculiar  feeling  of  dreamy  feli- 
city which  the  beauties  of  nature  produce 
in  a  happy  heart. 


"  Do  you  know,  Ellen,  what  day  it  is 
to-day  1 "  asked  the  man  and  pressed  her 
faithfully  to  his  heart. 

"  Our  little  boy's  second  birthday, " 
said  Ellen  looking  at  him  with  a  loving 
glance. 

"  And  our  fourth  anniversary.  Three 
have  already  gone  by  since  we  were  uni- 
ted, but  is  our  love  any  weaker  to-day 
than  three  years  ago1?  Say,  Ellen,  do  I 
love  you  less  now  than  then  1 " 

"  No,  you  love  me  more  than  ever, 
and  I  feel  more  closely  united  to  you 
every  day.  0,  how  deeply,  how  bound- 
lessly do  I  love  you,  my  noble  mate !  " 

"And  yet  how  unobserved  have  our 
lives  passed  ! " 

"  Domestic  happiness  is  more  complete 
the  more  it  is  separated  from  the  world's 
bustle  and  folly.  Ah  !  my  beloved  Uno, 
how  rich  in  true  happiness  have  not 
these  three  last  years  been ;  yet  I  often 
fear  that  it  is  too  great  and  that  I  do 
not  deserve  it." 

"  You  not  deserve  your  happiness,  you 
tender,  devoted,  high-minded  woman, 
who  with  so  much  courage  and  fortitude 
struggled  with  every  weakness  at  the 
time  when  your  life  was  an  unceasing 
trial !  I  often  fear,  on  the  contrary,  that 
I  shall  not  be  able  to  make  you  as 
happy  as  I  desire,  and  as  you  deserve 
to  be." 

So  Ellen  had  at  last,  after  so  many 
bitter  trials,  seen  her  beautiful  golden 
dream  of  domestic  bliss  realized,  and 
Providence  had  given  her  a  rich  recom- 
pense for  the  period  in  which  she  felt  so 
disappointed  in  life  and  in  her  hopes, 
through  the  love  which  now  surrounded 
her  and  filled  her  heart.  How  rich  she 
now  was  !  She  had  a  mate  who  adored  her 
and  whom  she  loved  with  all  the  devo- 
tion of  her  nature.  She  had  a  blooming 
and  beautiful  child,  and  a  charming 
home  in  the  midst  of  lovely  scenery. 
Everything  around  and  within  her  con- 
tributed to  make  her  as  perfectly  happy 
as  one  can  be  here  on  earth. 


118 


THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN  MAN. 


Countess  Emy  Rubens  had  the  satis- 
faction of  seeing  her  foster-daughter  as 
happy  as  her  own  child.  She  felt  grate- 
ful to  Providence  for  bestowing  upon  her 
the  greatest  comfort  which  can  come  to 
a  mother,  that  of  seeing  her  children 
happy  and  deserving  to  be  so. 

Alma  Kerner  had  been  married  to 
Henrico  four  years,  and  the  Kerners  also 


had  the  joy  of  witnessing  their   daugh- 
ter's happiness. 

In  society,  where  Ellen  had  no  longer 
been  seen  since  Ochard's  death,  she  was 
as  completely  forgotten  as  her  departed 
husband.  New  actors  on  the  stage  of 
folly  drew  the  general  attention,  to  be 
forgotten  in  a  few  years  like  Ellen  and 
Evert. 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KEEUZNACH, 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH. 


ONE  beautiful  evening  in  the  beginning 
of  July,  18G2,  I  arrived  at  Kreuzuach. 

The  place  is  surrounded  on  three  sides 
by  moimtains  whose  terrace-like  ledges 
are  covered  with  luxuriant  grapevines. 
A  fine  fruit-bearing  plain  extends  east- 
ward for  the  distance  of  a  mile,  finding 
its  boundary  at  the  foot  of  a  picturesque 
chain  of  hills.  The  river  Nahe  flows 
through  the  town,  dividing  it  into  two 
parts,  the  new  and  the  old.* 

The  region  around  Kreuznach  seems 
to  have  been  known  to  the  Romans?  and 
it  is  said  that  in  the  time  of  Claudius 
Drusus,  twelve  years  before  Christ,  they 
built  a  castle  in  Bingen  for  the  protection 
of  their  military  settlement ;  the  walls 
near  the  town  are  supposed  to  be  their 
work.  Somewhat  later  the  Germans  be- 
came the  rulers  of  the  territory,  until 
they  were  also  driven  away,  in  the  ygar 
4*49,  by  the  Frank,  King  Clodwig.  Kreuz- 
nach must  have  received  its  name  and 
origin  simultaneously  with  this  eve.nt, 
according  to  the  tradition,  from  a  cross 
which  was  raised  on  the  island. 
.  "  The  monks  came  on  a  pilgrimage  to 
the  island  through  the  forest,"  says  the 
story,  converting  both  old  and  young  to 
the  cross  by  means  of  the  cross."  A 
town  rose  where  only  huts  had  stood  be- 
fore, and  this  town  was  called  Kreuznach, 
after  the  cross  on  the  island. 

It  is  said  that  Ludwig  the  Pious  some- 
times resided  in  Kreuznach ;  but  it  is  not 
known,  however,  where  the  palace,  the 
so-called  Osterburg,  stood,  for  it  was  de- 
stroyed in  the  year  893  by  the  Normans. 

During  the  Thirty  Years'  War  the  town 


was  several  times  in  danger  of  being 
razed  to  the  ground.  Tu  the  year  1620 
it  was  blockaded  by  the  Spaniards;  ind 
1631  it  was  hard  pressed  by  Gustavus, 
the  second  Adolphus,  and  in  1639  was 
taken  by  storm  by  Duke  Bernhard  of 
Weimar,  the  leader  of  the  Swedish  Army. 

Kreuznach  in  its  appearance,  its  many 
narrow,  crooked  streets,  and  old-fashioned 
buildings,  presents  nothing  inviting  to 
the  strangers  who  flock  there  from  all 
countries  in  the  summer  for  the  sake  of 
the  waters.  The  only  thing  noteworthy 
is  the  cross  in  the  "  Wirthkirche." 

What  the  town  lacks  in  regard  to  the 
style  of  its  edifices  is  made  up  by  its  en- 
virons, which,  with  the  varied  and  beau- 
tiful scenery,  make  Kreuznach  one  of  the 
pleasantest  of  places. 

On  the  so-called  island  is  found  the 
spring,  from  which  the  countless  guests 
believe  that  they  derive  health  and 
strength.  It  has  received  the  name  of 
Elisabeth's  Spring. 

It  was  a  sunny  morning,  the  day  after 
my  arrival  at  Kreuznach,  when  I  also 
presented  myself  at  the  spring,  with  a 
cup,  to  commence  my  drinking.  The 
place  swarmed  with  people.  All  possible 
tongues  were  spoken  there.  They  drank 
the  salt  water,  promenaded,  puffed,  or 
listened  to  the  music.  Coteries  of  dif- 
ferent nations  were  formed  here  and 
there. 

In  one  place  a  number  of  Frenchmen 
had  gathered  around  the  beautiful  and 

elegant  Madame  N ,  who  was  born 

in  France  and  married  to  a  Hollander. 
There    again    the    homely,,  but    richly 


122 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH. 


dressed  Princess  G sky,  from  Moscow, 

was  promenading;  and  the  lively  Mar- 
quise D laughed  and  chatted  with 

her  companions ;  while  Lady  H quite 

seriously  and  with  English  dignity  con- 
versed with  some  countrymen.  A  little 
farther  on  a  lady  and  two  gentlemen  had 
stopped  in  the  midst  of  their  promenade 
to  devour  with  intense  interest  the  con- 
tents of  a  newspaper  which  communicat- 
ed fresh  intelligence  from  America,  their 
native  laud.  At  some  yards'  distance  from 
them  the  name  of  Garibaldi  was  men- 
tioned by  two  Italians,  with  glowing  en- 
thusiasm; and  there,  quite  near  the  spring, 
stand  several  Swedes  who  empty  their 
glasses  with  becoming  sobriety,  while  a 
troop  of  Germans  hasten  past  them  ex- 
pressing their  delight  over  Kreuznach's 
lounderschdne  scenery. 

With  my  head  in  a  whirl  from  the 
crowd  and  the  Babel  of  tongues,  I  turned 
away  from  the  place  and  took  the  road 
ito  the  left,  which  goes  down  to  the  bank 
•of  the  Nahe. 

J  walked  slowly,  and  stopped  ever  and 
sanon  to  contemplate  the  vine-clad  hills 
on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  which 
stood  there  as  if  on  guard  to  protect 
with  their  strong  arms  the  vale  in  which 
Kreuznach  is  situated. 

When  I  had  come  to  the  end  of  the 
road  at  the  point  where  it  joins  one  of 
the  streets  of  the  town,  I  turned  ;  but 
found  myself  at  this  opposite  two  ladies, 
one  elderly,  the  other  quite  young. 

There  are  faces  which  at  the  first 
glance  make  an  ineffaceable  impression. 
Such  a  face  was  that  of  the  elder  lady. 
It  did  not  strike  me  by  its  beauty  or 
the  traces  of  past  loveliness,  but  through 
the  character  which  was  stamped  upon 
it. 

Every  feature,  every  line,  told  that  her 
life  had  been  devastated  by  some  storm 
that  had  swept  over  it. 

The  young  girl,  who  walked  at  her 
side,  chatted  and  laughed  with  the  un- 
concern of  youth.  I  did  not  hear  what 


she  said,  but  I  saw  the  elder  lady  smile 
at  the  winning  child.  That  smile  con- 
tained a  whole  biography.  It  lay  on  the 
lips,  but  did  not  proceed  from  the  heart. 
It  was  gentle,  and  yet  cold;  kind,  and  yet 
sad. 

The  next  morning,  when  all  again  as- 
sembled at  the  spring,  I  looked  among 
the  throng  for  the  person  who  had  awa- 
kened so  lively  an  interest  in  me  the  day 
before.  I  soon  found  the  one  I  sought. 
When  her  companion,  the  young  girl, 
had  emptied  her  glass,  they  walked  away 
from  the  spring  and  turned  off  at  the 
road  to  the  Nahe.  I  followed  them,  and 
seated  myself  on  one  of  the  benches 
which  are  placed  there.  They  walked 
back  and  forth,  thus  giving  me  an  oppor- 
tunity of  studying  the  deeply  melancholy 
face. 

While  I  followed  them  with  my  eyes, 
I  framed  in  thought  the  life-history  of 
the  one  whose  appearance  had  so  struck 
my  imagination.  She  had  been  unhap- 
py as  a  mother.  Death  had  snatched 
away  all  her  children,  except  this  one, 
who  walked  at  her  side,  and  for  whom 
she  now  endured  the  torment  of  life. 

This  was  about  the  way  I  sketched  her 
past  life,  but  without  feeling  satisfied, 
however.  The  unknown  was  like  a  book, 
the  title  of  which  excites  curiosity,  but 
of  whose  contents  one  nevertheless  stands 
in  ignorance. 

After  taking  exercise  for  a  while,  they 
returned  to  the  spring,  and  at  the  same 
moment  some  one  rose  from  the  bench 
on  which  I  was  sitting.  I  now  perceived 
for  the  first  time  that  a  gentleman  had 
sat  there. 

He  had  a  very  singular  appearance. 

He  was  so  sunburnt  that  his  com- 
plexion had  become  dark  brown,  which 
it  had  certainly  not  been  originally.  The 
hair  was  dark,  yet  had  no  shade  of  black, 
and  the  abundant  beard  which  covered 
half  his  face  was  even  light.  The  eyes 
lay  deep  under  a  pair  of  bushy  eyebrows 
and  looked  fierce  at  first  sight,  but  on  a 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH. 


123 


nearer  view  one  discovered  that  they 
were  very  inild. 

When  he  rose  from  the  bench  he 
sighed  deeply  and  followed  the  two 
ladies  to  the  spring. 

Notwithstanding  my  zealous  efforts, 
several  days  elapsed  without  my  being 
able  to  learn  their  names. 

I  had  in  the  mean  time  observed  that 
the  above-described  gentleman,  like  me, 
could  spend  a  long  time  in  looking  at 
the  elderly  lady  and  her  young  com- 
panion, or  follow  them  at  some  distance 
as  if  afraid  of  losing  them  from  sight. 

That  this  observation  led  me  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  man  with  the  bushy 
eyebrows,  who  seemed  to  be  about  forty 
years  of  age,  was  in  love  with  the  young 
maiden,  is  a  matter  of  course. 

Chance  was  however  to  bring  me  into 
connection  with  the  two  ladies  sooner 
than  I  hoped,  and  place  us  quite  unex- 
pectedly on  a  familiar  footing  with  each 
other. 

I  was  staying  at  the  Weber  hotel, 
situated  at  the  left  hand  as  one  crosses 
the  bridge  leading  from  the  promenade. 

The  Weber  hotel  is  a  fine  large  build- 
ing, like  most  of  the  hotels  in  Kreuznach. 
All  the  rooms  were  occupied  by  guests, 
who  came  there  for  the  waters  and  the 
bathing. 

Nobody  takes  any  notice  of  his  neigh- 
bors abroad,  but  one  is  generally  in 
complete  ignorance  of  their  appearance 
as  well  as  their  social  position. 

Late  one  evening,  as  I  still  remained 
sitting  on  my  balcony,  I  was  disturbed 
by  some  one  who  came  rushing  into  my 
room,  and  to  my  no  slight  surprise  the 
daughter  of  the  lady  who  had  so  deeply 
interested  me  stood  before  me. 

In  fine  and  fluent  German  she  begged 
me  to  come  into  their  room,  for  one  of  the 
neighbors  had  been  taken  sick  with  them. 

I  followed  her,  and  was  not  a  little 
astonished  when  I  found  that  we  were 
living  not  only  in  the  same  house,  but 
on  the  same  floor. 


When  I  entered  their  room  the  young 
girl's  mother  was  occupied  with  an  old 
lady,  who  writhed  in  convulsions  on  the 
floor. 

A  physician  was  procured,  and  with 
the  assistance  of  the  servants  we  had 
the  sick  woman,  an  old  Russian  who  re- 
sided in  the  hotel,  removed  to  her  own 
ro6m. 

Through  this  occurrence  our  acquaint- 
ance was  formed. 

The  elder  lady  was  a  Frau  Spindler 
from  Berlin,  and  the  young  girl  a  relative 
of  hers  that  she  had  adopted  as  her  own 
child. 

She  told  me  this  much  immediately. 
They  had  come  to  Kreuznach  for  the 
young  Louise's  sake,  who  was  to  go 
through  a  cure. 

When  the  acquaintance  was  fairly 
made,  we  were  daily  and  almost  hourly 
together ;  and  I  can  say  that  I  have  very 
seldom  been  in  connection  with  persons 
who  pleased  me  more  than  these  two 
strangers. 

With  regard  to  the  man  with  the 
fierce  aspect,  whom  I  continually  found 
in  Louise's  way,  I  obtained  from  a 
countryman  the  information  that  he  was 
an  English  cosmopolite,  who,  after  travel- 
ling all  around  the  world,  had  happened 
to  be  attacked  with  the  gout  or  some 
such  ailment,  for  which  he  was  now  stay- 
ing at  Kreuznach. 

He  was  considered  very  wealthy,  for 
he  literally  strewed  money  around  him. 
Besides,  he  kept  himself  apart  from  the 
rest  of  the  company  at  the  springs,  and 
it  was  utterly  impossible  to  make  his 
acquaintance. 

The  days  succeeded  each  other  very 
quickly,  and  I  had  soon  been  in  Kreuz- 
nach three  weeks.  Two  more  and  I 
should  be  obliged  to  part  from  my  lovely 
neighbors. 

One  day  I  said  to  Frau  Spindler,  — 

"  Have  you  remarked  that  there  is  a 
man  here  who  is  continually  in  your 
and  Louise's  way  ? " 


124 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH 


"  No,  madam,  I  have  not,"  she  replied, 
and  looked  at  me. 

"  Turn  round  and  cast  a  glance  at  the 
bench  there  ;  you  will  then  discover  him." 

Frau  Spindler  did  so  ;  but  only  be- 
stowing a  cursory  look  on  the  man,  she 
said,  — 

"  It  is  possible  that  he  has  been  struck 
by  Louise's  appearance,  but  he  no  longer 
belongs  to  the  age  in  which  love  plays  any 
part  in  life.  He  can  consequently  not  be 
dangerous  to  her." 

This  remark  led  us  into  a  conversation 
upon  human  passions. 

Frau  Spindler  expressed  herself  in  a 
manner  which  gave  a  plain  indication 
that  she  had  suffered  very  much  from 
them. 

"  Do  you  know,  madam,"  said  I,  "  be- 
fore I  became  acquainted  with  you,  your 
appearance  made  so  lively  an  impression 
upon  me,  that  I  desired  to  possess  the 
power  of  reading  the  book  of  the  past, 
and  of  learning  what  your  experience  had 
been.  During  taj  progress  of  our  ac- 
quaintance this  desire  has  increased,  and 
at  the  present  moment  I  would  give  a 
good  deal  to  hear  your  life-history." 

"And  wherefore1?"  asked  she  with  a 
melancholy  smile. 

"  Because  the  trials  yo\i  have  passed 
through  have  left  their  stamp  upon  your 
face,  ay,  upon  your  whole' being." 

"And  if  it  were  so,  it  would  not  be 
strange."  She  sighed  and  added  after  a 
short  pause  :  u  Before  we  separate  I  will 
comply  with  your  desire.  I  will  relate 
to  you  the  short,  but  dreary  story  of  my 
life." 

Here  we  were  interrupted  by  Louise, 
'who  came  to  us.  She  had  taken  a  long 
walk  with  some  young  ladies  from  Berlin, 
belonging  to  their  acquaintance. 

Two  or  three  days  after  this,  when 
Louise  had  gone  on  a  pleasure  trip  to 
"Wiesbaden  in  company  with  these  coun- 
trywomen, Frau  Spindler  proposed  that 
she  and  I  should  make  the  long-spoken- 
of,  but  continually  deferred  visit  to- 


Rheingrafenstein,  a  very  remarkable  ruin 
an  hour's  distance  from  Kreuznach.  I 
eagerly  accepted  the  proposal,  but  re- 
gretted that  Louise  could  not  be  with  us, 
as  she  had  so  desired  to  have  a  nearer 
view  of  the  ruin." 

Frau  Spindler  replied  to  this  remark  of 
mine,  — 

"  In  my  company  Louise  will  never  go 
to  Rheingrafenstein  ;  I  have  a  prejudice 
agaiust  taking  her  there  which  you  will 
understand  when  you  have  visited  the 
place." 

Of  course  I  could  have  nothing  to  say 
against  this,  and  it  was  decided  that  we 
should  start  directly  after  dinner. 

The  air  was  clear,  the  sun  shone  warm 
and  the  wind  slumbered  on  the  tops  of 
the  mountains,  when  our  carriage  rolled 
away  from  Kreuznach,  taking  the  road 
to  the  right  of  Kuhberg  through  a  thick 
little  wood  which  had  been  changed  into 
a  park  and  decorated  with  small  castles 
and  turrets. 

Here  we  left  our  carriage  and  dis- 
missed the  coachman,  as  we  were  obliged 
to  continue  our  way  on  foot  to  Cans 
Mountain,  which  we  had  decided  to  visit 
first. 

Cans,  the  highest  peak  in  the  moun- 
tain ridge,  guards  Rheingrafenstein's 
rocks,  and  is  one  of  the  innumerable  wit- 
nesses of  God's  greatness  and  might 
which  nature  has  to  exhibit.  It  re- 
minds of  a  time  when  our  beautiful 
planet  had  a  different  aspect  from  the 
present. 

Cans  is  a  collection  of  isolated  Plu- 
tonic masses,  which  through  some  subter- 
ranean power  have  been  upheaved  from 
the  earth's  centre,  and  formed  into  these 
gigantic  crags  upon  its  surface. 

The  view  from  this  remarkable  moun- 
tain is  enchanting  beyond  description. 

At  the  foot  of  the  towering  rocks  a 
stream  rushes  forth  to  the  beautiful 
Miinster  am  Stein,  and  behind  this  Kau- 
senberg  and  a  part  of  Kreuznach  appear. 
To  the  right  of  Miinster  you  have  the 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH. 


125 


mighty  Rothenfels,  with  its  innumerable 
pinnacles,  buttresses,  and  hollows,  chang- 
ing from  red  to  green  in  all  the  various 
shades.  Farther  away  to  the  left  you 
behold  Norheim,  surrounded  with  its  vine 
hi!13,  which  as  it  were  supports  itself  on 
Rothenfels;  the  eyes  and  mind  are  then 
chained  by  the  ruins  of  Ebernburg. 
Away  in  the  distance  and  illumined  by 
the  sun's  rays  are  seen  Johannesberg  and 
Wiesbaden.  There  is  in  all  directions  an 
endless  variety  of  woods,  mountains, 
thriving  vineyards,  blooming  hillsides, 
smiling  dales,  populous  villages,  and  an- 
tiquities from  past  ages. 

The  picture  was  beautiful,  the  impres- 
sion striking,  and  the  memory  of  it  in- 
delible. 

When  we  had  contemplated  this  grand 
panorama  a  long  time,  we  descended 
Cans  Mountain,  and  took  the  road  to 
the  right  leading  to  the  summit  upon 
which  Rheiugrafenstein's  ruin  is  sit- 
uated. 

After  a  very  fatiguing  walk  we  found 
ourselves  at  last  upon  the  platform  which 
is  formed  over  the  ruins. 

The  amazement  and  surprise  which 
seizes  the  mind  at  the  sight  of  these  re- 
mains of  a  castle,  built  upon  the  point  of 
a  perpendicular  rock  and  suspended  as  it 
were  over  the  abyss,  cannot  be  rendered 
in  words. 

Above  the  ruin,  where  it  forms  the 
platform,  a  little  cross  of  iron  has  been 
erected. 

My  attention  was  so  exclusively,  en- 
grossed by  the  prospect  from  the  ruin, 
that  I  had  entirely  forgotten  to  notice 
my  companion. 

Finally  I  turned  to  her  to  make  some 
inquiries ;  but  these  died  away  on  my 
lips,  for  I  found  her  sunk  down  at  the 
foot  of  the  little  cross.  She  sat  there  as 
if  exhausted  by  fatigue,  with  her  head 
leaning  on  her  hands. 

"How  are  you?  do  you  feel  ill?"  I 
asked,  frightened. 

Frau  Spindler  raised  her  bowed  head 


and  fastened  her  large  soulful  eyes  on  me, 
saying  quite  faintly,  — 

"  It  is  nothing.  Do  not  mind  the 
weakness  which  seizes  me  when  I  again 
find  myself  here,  after  an  interval  of  so 
many  years;  here  on  the  spot  where  I 
played  as  a  child,  or  listened  to  stories 
about  this  castle.  Ah,  how  happy  I  have 
been  here,  and  yet  how  miserable  !  " 

"  You  have  thus  lived  in  this  region  1 " 
said  I. 

"  Yes,  I  was  born  in  the  valley  at  the 
foot  of  this  mountain." 

A  pause  followed  this  answer.  I  did 
not  consider  it  right  to  ask  my  compan- 
ion any  further  questions  concerning  her 
earlier  experience,  but  said  in  the  course 
of  a  few  moments,  — 

"  Has  this  ruin  no  history  1 " 

"  0  yes,  certainly,  although  it  is  very 
incomplete  ;  but  what  is  lacking  in  re- 
spect to  its  history  fiction  has  endeavored 
to  supply,  for  many  and  wonderful  are 
the  legends  related  about  these  relics  of 
a  strong  and  mighty  castle.  The  actual 
time  of  its  erection  is  unknown.  The 
first  authentic  information  we  have  of  it 
dates  from  the  year  1282,  when  the 
Counts  of  Rheingau,  after  the  battle  of 
Sprendling  and  the  destruction  of  their 
stronghold  Rheinberg,  built  Stein  Castle 
here.  In  spite  of  its  apparent  inac- 
cessibility, the  fort  was  several  times 
taken  and  destroyed  by  the  enemy. 
Rheingrafenstein's  total  demolition  was 
accomplished  by  the  French  in  1689,  and 
since  then  it  has  been  a  ruin,  resembling 
a  dread  phantom  which  guards  the  point 
of  the  rock." 

"  And  how  do  the  stories  run  that  are 
told  about  this  shade  of  the  past  1 " 

"  There  are  too  many  of  them  to  be 
repeated,"  answered  Frau  Spindler ;  "  but 
I  will  relate  one  to  you  which  made  a 
certain  impression  on  me  when  I  was 
young,  and  has  had  an  influence  on  my 
life.  This  story  is  so  closely  allied  with 
my  sorrows,  that  I  will  in  connection 
with  it  tell  my  life-history,  and  thus 


126 


A  EEMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH. 


fulfil  rny  promise  to  you.  This  place 
seems  fitting  for  it,  if  you  have  no 
objection." 

I  assured  her  that  the  proposition 
was  particularly  agreeable  to  me;  and 
when  I  had  seated  myself  on  a  moss- 
covered  rock  at  a  little  distance  from 
her,  she  began  her  narrative,  which  we 
will  call  — 

THE  LEGEND  OF  RHEINGRAFEN- 
STEIN. 

I  lost  my  parents  early  (began  Frau 
Selma  Spindler).  They  lived  down  there 
in  Huthendalen,  which  lies  beneath  us  at 
the  foot  of  the  mountain. 

When  my  parents  died  they  left  noth- 
ing but  debts  behind  them. 

My  Uncle  Conrad  Spindler,  who  re- 
sided in  the  outskirts  of  the  village  off 
there,  and  owned  a  large  vineyard,  pur- 
chased my  father's  house  and  removed 
to  it.  He  then  adopted  his  orphan 
niece  as  his  own  child,  and  brought  me 
up  with  his  two  sons,  Rolf  and  Gerhard. 
Before  I  speak  further  of  them,  however, 
I  will  tell  you  the  story  of  the  origin  of 
Rheingrafenstein. 

While  I  was  growing  up,  there  was 
in  the  valley  another  orphan  girl  by  the 
name  of  Gretchen,  who  was  demented. 
It  was  said  that  she  had  become  so  from 
unhappy  love. 

She  was  the  delight  of  all  the  chil- 
dren, because  she  knew  all  the  legends 
about  the  ruins  in  this  region,  especially 
Rheingrafenstein. 

If  any  stranger  came  to  the  village, 
then  it  was  Gretchen  who  became  his 
guide  and  related  everything  credible 
and  incredible  about  the  ruins.  She  was 
also  in  the  habit  of  spending  whole  days 
up  here,  singing  her  songs  about  proud 
knights  and  fair  maidens. 

I  especially  as  a  child  had  taken  a 
particular  fancy  to  Gretchen,  and  when- 
ever I  saw  her  I  followed  her  up  here  to 
listen  to  some  new  story. 


Among  the  many  she  related,  the 
one  concerning  the  origin  of  Rheingra- 
fenstein, made  the  deepest  impression 
upon  me,  and  I  could  not  often  enough 
hear  it  repeated  by  Gretchen,  who  on 
her  part  seemed  to  be  most  intere'sted 
in  telling  just  this.  It  ran  thus  :  — 

There  was  once,  many  hundred  years 
ago,  a  Rhine  Count  who  was  in  strife 
with  the  Archbishop  of  Meutz.  During 
these  feuds  he  fell  into  such  severe  straits 
that  he  was  obliged  to  seek  safety  in 
flight,  and  then  came  to  the  foot  of  the 
rock  upon  which  the  ruins  now  stand. 
Astonished  at  nature's  mighty  freak  in 
raising  this  perpendicular  cliff,  he  ex- 
claimed, — 

"  Here  I  will  have  a  castle ;  I  could 
then  defy  the  priests.  But  no  mortal 
would  dare  to  ascend  that  rock,  still  less 
build  a  stronghold  there,  unless  the  Devil 
should  serve  him  as  a  builder." 

Scarcely  were  these  words  uttered 
when  Satan  stood  before  the  Count, 
saying,  — 

"  I  will  help  you,  but  with  the  condi- 
tion that  the  first  one  whom  I  behold 
through  the  window  of  the  new  castle 
shall  be  my  property." 

The  Count  struggled  in  the  begin- 
ning against  the  temptation  of  gaining 
an  impregnable  fastness  on  the  summit 
of  the  crag,  but  the  Evil  One  finally 
overcame  his  scruples.  The  contract  was 
made  between  them. 

The  next  morning  when  the  Count 
awoke,  his  eyes  fell  on  the  mountain, 
and  lo  and  behold  there  stood  a  castle 
whose  turrets  and  pinnacles  glittered  in 
the  morning  sun.  Uncertain  whether  he 
dreamed  or  was  awake,  be  rubbed  his 
eyes,  but  the  castle  which  Beelzebub  and 
his  imps  had  raised  during  the  night  did 
not  disappear. 

The  Count  then  remembered  the  com- 
pact that  was  made  and  a  nameless 
horror  took  possession  of  his  soul.  He 
dared  not  enter  the  castle. 

While  overpowered   by  this   anguish, 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH. 


127 


his  wife  came,  in  order  to  rescue  her 
husband  from  his  difficulty  by  means  of 
a  stratagem  which  she  had  devised. 

She  had  done  as  women  have  been  ac- 
customed to  do  in  all  times,  —  she  had 
listened  to  the  conversation  between  her 
husband  and  Satan,  and  resolved  to  cheat 
the  latter. 

"  My  lord  and  consort,"  said  she  to  the 
amazed  Count,  "  have  no  fear,  but  enter 
your  castle  undauntedly ;  I  have  already 
attended  to  the  Devil's  steak." 

Up  the  mountain,  ahead  of  the  Count, 
hobbled  an  old  ass,  with  a  knight's  man- 
tle on  his  back,  and  a  barret-cap  over  his 
eyes.  On  coming  in  to  the  castle  the 
ass  made  directly  for  the  window. 

The  Devil  was  thus  fooled  by  a  woman, 
and  was  obliged  to  be  content  with  the 
ass ;  but  he  swore  that  he  would  have 
his  revenge. 

The  first  night  the  Count  and  his  con- 
sort slept  within  the  walls  of  the  castle, 
Satan  appeared  to  the  latter,  and  accosted 
her,  — 

"  You  thought  you  could  impose  upon 
me,"  said  he,  "  but  you  shall  learn  that 
it  did  not  succeed.  Within  these  walls 
you  will  give  birth  to  a  daughter,  who 
in  beauty  and  grace  is  destined  to  sur- 
pass all  the  women  of  the  land.  At  sev- 
enteen years  of  age  she  shall  be  betrothed 
to  a  noble  knight,  but  the  day  before  the 
wedding  she  will  be  carried  away,  and  if 
you  wish  to  find  her,  it  must  be  in  my 
kingdom.  This  time  you  shall  not  de- 
prive me  of  my  property." 

The  years  went  by ;  the  Countess  for- 
got the  Devil's  words.  She  gave  birth  to 
a  daughter,  who  became  beautiful  as  an 
angel,  and  the  pride  of  her  parents. 

At  her  birth  the  mother  remembered 
the  dreadful  prophecy,  but  as  the  girl 
grew  up  it  again  fell  into  oblivion. 

The  fair  Adelgunda  was  spoken  of 
far  and  wide  for  her  beauty.  The  knights 
came  from  all  parts  to  win  her  love  and 
to  compete  for  the  prize  of  her  hand  ;  but 
they  were  obliged  to  return  unheard. 


Two  noble  knights  then  presented 
themselves,  nephews  of  her  father.  The 
elder,  Eberhard,  came  to  ask  Adelgun- 
da's  hand;  the  younger,  Kuno,  accom- 
panied his  brother. 

Eberhard  had  a  frank  disposition,  a 
noble  heart,  and  was  known  for  his 
bravery.  Kuno  was  handsome  and  a 
mighty  bard,  who  charmed  men  and  wo- 
men with  his  songs. 

When  Eberhard  asked  for  the  beauti- 
ful Adelgunda's  hand,  which  her  father 
had  previously  promised  him,  he  ob- 
tained it  of  her  without  needing  to  ap- 
peal to  this  promise,  and  the  two  were 
betrothed. 

Shortly  afterwards  Eberhard  was  called 
away  to  take  part  in  a  feud  with  another 
Rhine  count.  Kuno  remained  with  his 
brother's  betrothed. 

He  sang  of  love  both  day  and  night ; 
he  knew  how  to  clothe  this  feeling  in  ar- 
dent words,  and  Adelgunda  listened  to 
the  songs  and  to  the  words  until  her  own 
heart  was  kindled  by  them  and  forgot  — 
Eberhard. 

Happy  over  his  many  victories,  the 
faithful  lover  returned  to  celebrate  his 
wedding  with  Adelgunda,  whom  he  loved 
with  all  his  heart. 

But  Adelgunda's  glance  was  shy  and 
her  cheeks  were  pale ;  she  no  longer 
smiled  at  her  lover. 

Eberhard  remarked  that  his  betrothed 
was  not  like  herself,  and  he  asked  her 
what  it  could  be  that  troubled  her  young 
life,  begging  her  to  tell  him  the  truth. 
But  Adelgunda  did  not  wish  to  confess 
that  her  heart  had  betrayed  its  trust 
and  fallen  under  the  influence  of  a.  crimi-- 
nal  love  for  the  brother  of  her  betrothed^. 
She  replied  that  she  was  just  the  same  as; 
usual. 

A  banquet  was  to  be  given  in  the  large 
hall,  the  like  of  which  had  never  been 
seen  before ;  for  the  Count  was  now  to 
give  his  beautiful  daughter  in  marriage. 

The  night  before  the  wedding,  Adel- 
gunda's mother  could  not  sleep  A 


128 


A  REMINISCENCE   OF  KREUZNACH. 


nameless  anxiety  had  seized  her  heart. 
At  midnight  she  was  still  awake,  and 
then  heai'd  a  voice  which  called  her  by 
name.  She  raised  herself  quickly  and 
looked  in  the  direction  from  whence  the 
voice  came.  The  Holy  Virgin  stood  be- 
fore her  and  addressed  her  thus,  — 

"  Unhappy  woman,  how  have  you 
watched  over  your  child  when  you  al- 
lowed her  to  enter  upon  the  road  which 
leads  to  destruction?  Stand  up,  weak 
mother,  go  to  your  daughter  and  see 
what  has  become  of  her." 

The  Holy  Mother  disappeared,  and  the 
Count's  wife,  who  had  entirely*  forgotten 
the  trick  she  played  Satan  and  the  re- 
venge he  swore  to  take  upon  her,  awa- 
kened her  consort  and  told  him  of  the 
apparition.  The  Count  smiled  at  it  and 
said  that  she  dreamed,  after  which  he 
turned  to  the  wall  and  went  to  sleep. 

The  Countess  could  not  follow  his  ex- 
ample, but  left  her  bed  quickly  and  hur- 
ried to  the  maiden's  chamber. 

As  she  reached  the  room  she  heard 
the  clash  of  weapons  within.  She  threw 
open  the  door  and  her  amazed  eyes  met  a 
spectacle  terrible  to  behold.  Eberhard 
and  Kuno  were  engaged  in  a  desperate 
conflict  with  each  other.  Adelgunda  lay 
in  a  swoon  in  a  corner  of  the  room.  The 
unhappy  mother  uttered  a  shriek  of  hor- 
ror. At  the  same  moment  Kuno's  sword 
pierced  his  brother's  heart.  The  unfor- 
tunate mother  saw  no  more,  but  as  she 
fell  to  the  floor  she  heard  a  heart-rending 
cry  from  her  daughter,  and  Satan's  voice, 
which  said  to  her,  — 

"  Your  daughter  has  broken  her  faith, 
has  loved  both  brothers,  and  been  the 
cause  of  this  quarrel  and  fratricide ;  now 
she  belongs  to  me." 

A  sulphureous  vapor  filled  the  air,  fol- 
lowed by  a  terrific  thunder-clap. 

The  next  morning  they  found  the  un- 
happy mother  lying  lifeless  in  her  daugh- 
ter's chamber,  and  in  the  maiden's  bed 
slumbered  the  same  old  ass  which  Satan 
had  got  for  building  the  castle. 


Gretchen  always  used  to  conclude  the 
story  with  these  words,  — 

"  The  story  goes  that  any  love  which 
blooms  in  the  vicinity  of  Rheingrafen- 
stein's  ruins  is  disastrous  to  the  lovers, 
and  that  the  curse  which  rests  over  it 
will  not  be  removed  until  Adelgunda's 
and  Eberhard's  spirits  have  become  rec- 
onciled ;  nor  till  the  former  has  been  re- 
leased from  her  subterranean  imprison- 
ment and  obtained  the  Holy  Mother's 
forgiveness.  This  shall  occur  when  two 
faithful  hearts  beat  for  each  other  here  in 
this  place,  where  Adelgunda  broke  her 
faith  to  Eberhard." 

Such  was  the  story  I  heard  from  Gretch- 
en, and  such  was  the  superstitious  moral 
she  annexed,  which  often  repeated  to  me 
in  childhood  made  a  deep  impression. 

Frau  Spindler  ceased  and  sat  awhile 
absorbed  in  thought,  after  which  she 
again  began  to  speak. 

As  I  have  now  told  you  the  legend  it- 
self, I  will  in  connection  with  it  continue 
my  own  life-story. 

My  uncle,  by  whom  1  had  been  adopt- 
ed, was  a  warm-hearted  Christian,  strict 
in  his  morals,  serious  in  his  thoughts, 
firm  in  his  faith,  and  incorruptible  in  his 
sense  of  duty. 

He  had,  in  the  same  way  as  his  father 
and  grandfather,  cultivated  the  soil,  at- 
tended to  his  vineyards,  and  in  leisure 
moments  developed  his  intellect  by  read- 
ing and  study. 

In  his  youth  he  had  spent  two  or  three 
years  at  one  of  the  principal  universities 
in  Germany,  and  had  there  laid  the 
foundation  of  the  knowledge  which  he 
afterwards  augmented  during  his  whole 
life. 

To  live  in  daily  contact  with  my  uncle 
and  not  love  him  was  impossible.  To 
act  in  opposition  to  his  will,  to  do  any- 
thing that,  displeased  him,  were  faults 
which  even  as  a  child  I  would  have 
regarded  as  a  crime.  Although  I  was 


A  REMINISCENCE  OP  KREUZNACH. 


129 


small,  I  could  sit  at  his  feet,  listening  to 
his  words  as  to  some  grand  and  exalted 
music,  which  I  could  not  rightly  compre- 
hend it  is  true,  but  which  nevertheless 
charmed  my  ear.  In  short,  as  far  back 
as  my  thought  extends,  he  was  the  dear- 
est I  possessed. 

Before  death  made  me  parentless,  it 
had  snatched  away  his  wife.  Uncle  was 
thus  both  father  and  mother  to  his  sons 
and  me. 

An  older  sister  of  his  and  my  departed 
mother  attended  to  his  domestic  economy. 

Aunt  Monica  was  a  very  ordinary 
woman,  neither  better  nor  worse  than  a 
thousand  others.  The  only  prominent 
thing  in  her  was  that  she  cherished  an 
almost  passionate  love  for  her  younger 
nephew,  Gerhard,  of  whom  she  had  had 
the  care  since  his  mother's  death,  when 
the  boy  was  only  six  mouths  old. 

My  two  cousins,  Rolf  and  Gerhard, 
were  as  unlike  each  other  in  disposition 
and  character  as  night  and  day. 

The  first-named  was  of  a  mild  and 
serious  turn  of  mind.  Like  his  father  in 
thought  and  opinion,  he  loved  the  good, 
the  beautiful,  the  noble,  and  was  fully 
convinced  that  one  could  be  of  use  even 
in  the  most  obscure  corner  of  the  world, 
if  he  only  placed  love  of  the  neighbor 
before  love  of  himself.  Right-minded 
and  firm,  his  character  was  one  of  those 
which  could  easily  take  a  stamp  of  stern- 
ness if  he  was  wronged. 

Gerhard  again  was  beautiful  as  a  statue 
in  features,  lively,  passionate,  wild,  and 
changeable  to  the  highest  degree.  He 
found  our  secluded  life  in  the  valley 
unbearably  monotonous,  and  longed  to 
be  away  among  strangers  and  new  scenes. 

Passionate  even  to  rashness,  he  had 
already  as  a  boy  been  a  source  of  contin- 
ual anxiety  to  Aunt  Monica  and  of 
sorrow  to  his  father,  who  neither  with 
severity  nor  kindness  was  able  to  tame 
this  temper  which  waa  irritated  at  the 
slightest  opposition. 

Toward  his  brother  he  entertained,  as 


far  back  as  I  can  remember,  a  deep- 
seated  feeling  of  spite  and  bitterness ;  in 
the  beginning  this  started  from  the  fact 
that  Rolf  was  stronger,  and  was  after- 
wards nourished  by  the  esteem  hi  which 
the  latter  was  held  for  his  exemplary 
habits,  diligence,  and  obedience  to  his 
father. 

As  Rolf  grew  up,  he  had  only  one  en- 
deavor, and  that  was  to  please  his  father 
and  to  correspond  to  the  claims  which 
the  latter  had  upon  him,  so  far  as  stood 
in  his  power. 

He  consequently  became  the  example 
I  set  up  for  my  behavior,  and  in  my 
childish  heart  Rolf  was  the  one  I  ad- 
mired next  to  Uncle  Conrad.  He  was 
besides  six  years  older  than  I,  and 
through  his  affection  for  me  and  his 
judgment  was  my  guiding  star  to  the 
right  and  the  good. 

Gerhard,  on  the  contrary,  was  the  joy 
and  torment  of  my  childhood.  His 
audacious  merriment  amused  me,  his 
violence  frightened  and  exercised  a  ty- 
rannical effect  over  me. 

Gay,  foolhardy,  bold,  and  fickle,  Ger- 
hard was  to  me  an  actual  fever.  I  never 
knew  from  one  moment  to  the  other  how 
he  would  be  to  me  ;  for  it  only  needed  a 
word  to  make  .him  enraged.  If  we 
played,  he  wearied  of  the  play  immediate- 
ly and  flew  from  one  to  the  other.  He 
could  desire  a  thing  with  the  greatest 
intensity  as  soon  as  any  obstacle  was 
encountered,  and  then  defy  everything 
and  risk  'life  and  limb  for  it ;  but  when 
he  attained  the  longed-for  object,  the 
pleasure  was  gone,  and  the  san?e  thing 
which  he  had  just  tried  with  life  and 
blood  to  win  was,  when  he  once  pos- 
sessed it,  of  no  value. 

One  afternoon  he  discovered  a  bird's 
nest  high  up  in  a  tree  which  overhung 
the  brook.  He  spoke  of  it,  and  declared 
his  intention  of  getting  the  nest  the  fol- 
lowing day. 

The  morning  came,  and  he  went  there 
as  soon  as  the  sun  was  up.  He  climbed 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH. 


to  tlio  top  of  the  tree,  but  some  one  had 
been  before  him.  In  the  indignation  at 
being  foiled  in  his  hopes,  he  threw  him- 
self headlong  from  the  tree,  and  was 
carried  home  bleeding  and  badly  hurt. 

At  another  time  he  and  Rolf  were  to 
take  a  ride  up  to  Ebernburg.  Gerhard 
declared  that  he  would  get  there  first. 
Rolfs  horse  was,  however,  swifter  than 
his,  so  that  he  arrived  a  few  minutes  be- 
fore his  brother;  this  so  irritated  Gerhard, 
that  he  was  on  the  point  of  casting  him- 
self from  the  ruins  of  the  large  watch- 
tower  that  stands  on  the  edge  of  the 
rock  and  hangs  over  a  depth  of  several 
hundred  feet.  He  wished  to  be  the  first 
in  everything,  and  could  not  bear  to 
have  any  one  dispute  this  right  or  place 
any  obstacle  in  his  way. 

That  such  a  disposition  should  inev- 
itably expose  itself  to  trouble  and  the 
punishment  of  a  wise  and  considerate 
father  is  a  matter  of  course  ;  but  punish- 
ishment  and  remonstrances  effected  no 
change.  Gerhard  neither  feared  the  one 
nor  heeded  the  other,  for  he  did  not  love 
anybody  or  anything  so  much  as  his  own 
will. 

At  seventeen  years  of  age  he  and 
Rolf  were  sent  to  Heidelberg.  The  lat- 
ter remained  there  three  years ;  but 
Gerhard  returned  home  quite  unexpect- 
edly after  a  year's  absence.  His  arrival 
surprised  all,  but  rejoiced  none.  He  came 
back  destitute  of  almost  everything  and 
on  foot,  for  on  his  way  home  he  had 
made  a  tour  through  the  country  around 
the  Rhine. 

During  the  first  weeks  he  was  at  home 
he  appeared  considerably  changed.  He 
was  more  quiet,  kept  himself  in  our  valley, 
and  seemed  to  exert  himself,  while  Rolf 
was  away,  to  reconcile  his  father  with 
the  bad  results  of  his  first  stay  at  the 
academy. 

Quiet,  peace,  and  work  were  however 
nothing  to  him.  He  soon  tired  of  this, 
and  again  began  to  roam  round  hunting, 
while  he  succeeded  in  stirring  up  hos- 


tilities with  the  youth  of  .the  viei 
lie  did  not  care  for  books  or  studies,  and 
when  his  father  reproached  him  for  it,  lie 
replied,  — 

"Let  me  once  more  go  to  a  univer- 
sity, and  I  promise  that  it  shall  make  a 
man  of  me.  I  was  not  born  to  be  mas- 
ter of  a  vineyard.  Still,  I  will  not  go  to 
Heidelberg,  but  to  Berlin." 

Conscientious  in  all  things  as  my 
uncle  was,  he  fitted  out  his  troublesome 
son  for  the  second  time,  and  sent  him, 
after  a  year's  residence  at  home,  to  Berlin. 

Shortly  after  his  departure,  Rolf  re- 
turned, and  was  then  to  devote  himself 
to  agriculture  and  the  care  of  the  wide- 
stretched  vineyards. 

Two  years  elapsed,  in  which  Gerhard 
continued  to  be  away. 

How  he  attended  to  his  studies  dur- 
ing the  time  I  do  not  know.  He  did 
not  ask  for  anything  more  in  the  way 
of  money  than  his  father  allotted  to  him, 
but  Aunt  Monica  sent  him  one  sum  after 
another  out  of  her  private  income. 

During  his  absence  time  passed  in  our 
valley  like  a  smiling  dream. 

Uncle  and  Rolf  surrounded  me  with 
all  possible  love,  and  the  latter  was  now 
my  teacher.  I  received  through  his  care 
an  education  far  beyond  what  other  girls 
in  this  region  enjoyed. 

Being  earnest  and  religious,  they  both 
considered  romances  and  such  books 
as  fired  the  imagination  injurious,  and 
in  our  little  home  there  was  not  a  single 
book  of  the  kind  to  be  found,  but  only 
those  which  cultivated  the  intellect  and 
heart. 

Without  anything  which  could  stimu- 
late the  fancy  or  create  a  desire  for  the 
romantic,  I  developed  from  the  child  to 
the  maiden. 

Surrounded  by  grand  and  beautiful 
scenery,  enjoying  the  most  disinterested 
friendship,  and  inhaling  only  a  moral 
atmosphere,  I  could  be  said  to  possess 
everything  which  could  exert  a  benefi- 
cial influence  upon  my  moral,  intel- 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KRETTZNACH. 


131 


lectual,  and  aesthetic  nature.  I  had 
also,  during  these  years  in  which  my 
understanding  awoke  to  full  conscious- 
ness, felt  so  happy  in  this  hidden  corner 
of  the  world,  so  thankful  to  Providence 
for  the  comfort  I  enjoyed,  that  I  did 
not  have  a  single  unfulfilled  desire.  All 
was  peace,  all  was  harmony,  both  within 
and  around  me.  I  enjoyed  my  existence, 
as  the  bird  in  the  wood  must  enjoy  his 
when  he  sings  so  glad  and  free. 

I  loved  and  adored  my  uncle  and 
Rolf,  and  was  loved  by  them.  I  did  not 
reflect  upon  the  possibility  that  things 
could  become  otherwise  than  they  were. 

Frau  Spindler  leaned  her  brow  on 
her  hand  and  added  in  a  tone  of  deep 
regret :  — 

0,  when  I  think  of  those  days  of 
peace  and  bliss,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  the 
height  of  my  happiness  must  then  have 
contained  in  its  bosom  all  the  sufferings 
which  afterwards  befell  me.  From  the 
height  of  happiness  one  easily  falls  to  the 
depth  of  misery. 

One  day,  it  was  in  the  spring,  —  I 
was  then  sixteen,  —  Uncle  Conrad  said 
to  me,  — 

"  Get  your  hat,  Selma,  and  let  us  take 
a  walk  to  Weirenthal.  I  have  something 
to  say  to  you." 

Glad  to  be  allowed  to  accompany  him, 
I  obeyed  the  order.  We  went  along 
the  mountain  path  which  turned  off  at 
the  left  of  our  dwelling  and  wound  be- 
tween luxuriant  groups  of  trees  and  dew- 
berry  vines,  following  a  clear  brook  that 
rushed  quite  wildly  down  the  steep  de- 
clivity, until  we  came  to  Weirenthal, 
where  it  is  said  that  Ulric  von  Button, 
during  his  stay  at  Ebernburg,  spent  many 
solitary  and  delightful  hours. 

Weirenthal  was  a  place  to  which  my 
uncle  always  preferred  to  turn  his  steps. 
During  the  whole  way  he  only  talked 
about  the  treasures  of  the  vegetable 
kingdom. 

When  we  arrived  there,  he  seated  him- 


self at  the  side  of  the  brook  under  a 
large  tree  and  drew  me  down  beside 
him,  saying, — 

"  Now,  my  child,  we  will  speak  some 
serious  words.  Your  life  has  hitherto 
passed  like  a  quiet  dream,  without  your 
even  thinking  of  the  possibility  that  it 
might  change  form ;  and  yet,  Selma,  this 
can  so  easily  occur.  The  great  God  may 
be  pleased  to  call  me  hence,  and  then 
you  would  stand  without  support,  a  de- 
fenceless reed  exposed  to  the  storms  of 
fate.  My  duty  enjoins  me,  so  far  as  lies 
in  my  power,  to  provide  for  your  future 
and  the  security  of  your  happiness. 

"  When  your  mother  lay  at  the  point 
of  death  and  bequeathed  to  me  the  dear- 
est she  possessed,  her  daughter,  I  prom- 
ised her  to  try,  with  God  and  the  Holy 
Virgin's  assistance,  to  protect  you  from 
meeting  the  same  unhappy  fate  to  which 
she  had  fallen  a  victim,  namely,  to  die 
of  sorrow  at  having  wasted  her  love  upon 
a  husband  who  was  unworthy  of  it. 

"  I  promised  to  remove  you  from  the 
influence  of  other's  passions,  and  to 
shield  your  young  heart  tfrom  their  mas- 
tery, while  I  endeavored  to  prepare  you 
an  unobserved  happiness  far  from  the 
battle-field  of  the  world." 

Uncle  ceased,  and  I  ventured  to  make 
the  inquiry  if  my  mother  was  unhappy. 

"Yes,  very,"  he  replied.  Laying  his 
hand  on  my  head,  he  continued  :  "  I 
love  you,  you,  my  adored  sister's  only 
child,  so  deeply,  that  you  occupy  the 
first  place  in  my  heart,  and  I  should 
not  forgive  it  if  either  of  my  sons  in  the 
future  were  to  heap  sorrow  upon  this 
head.  Any  such  thing  would  be  so  hard 
a  trial,  that  I  do  not  think  I  have  the 
power  to  bear  it  with  submission.  May 
the  Mother  of  God  watch  over  and  pro- 
tect thee,  thou  light  of  my  eyes  ! " 

Just  as  Uncle  said  these  words  there 
was  a  rustling  in  the  bushes  behind  us, 
and  Gretchen,  the  crazy  girl,  passed  by 
us,  saying,  — 

"Good  evening,  I  have  news  for  you 


132 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH. 


from  Rheingrafenstein.  There  is  a  storm 
brewing  up  there;  strange  things  are 
going  to  happen.  Be  on  your  guard 
down  there  in  Huthendal,  for  it  is  you 
upon  whom  the  evil  will  fall." 

Grctchen  disappeared  at  the  turn  of 
the  path. 

Uncle  sat  silent  a  long  time.  A  cloud 
of  sorrow  now  rested  upon  his  brow,  usu- 
ally so  calm  and  light. 

I,  who  was  not  tormented  in  the  least 
by  fear  for  the  future  or  any  sad  fore- 
bodings, attached  no  weight  to  what  the 
crazy  girl  had  said,  but  only  felt  sur- 
prised at  Uncle's  changed  appearance. 

He  said  nothing  for  quite  a  while. 
Finally  he  took  *way  the  hand  that 
rested  on  my  head,  patted  my  cheek,  and 
said,  — 

"  However  much  we  may  try  to  culti- 
vate and  enlighten  our  minds  in  order  to 
banish  all  prejudice  from  our  souls,  some 
shadow  of  superstition  will  still  remain 
there.  So  is  it  with  me.  I  have  worked 
all  my  life  to  become  an  enlightened 
Christian,  who  does  not  place  his  trust 
in  anything  but  the  all-good  God,  and 
yet  I  am  now  surprised  to  find  that  I  al- 
low the  words  of  a  crazy  girl  to  make  an 
impression  on  me  ;  and  why  ?  Because 
her  prediction  concerns  the  dearest  I 
possess,  my  child.  So  there  it  is,  when 
the  heart  becomes  too  much  attached  to 
earthly  beings,  it  is  disquieted  by  an 
unbecoming  fear  of  temporal  misfortunes. 
May  God  in  his  goodness  pardon  me 
this  sin  ! " 

My  uncle  clasped  his  hands  and  sat 
absorbed  in  silonc  prayer,  then  he  made 
the  sign  of  the  cross  and  resumed,  turn- 
ing to  me,  — 

"  Before  I  impart  to  you  what  I  hope 
and  desire  with  reference  to  your  future, 
I  will,  according  to  the  wish  of  your  de- 
parted mother,  briefly  relate  to  you  her 
experience.  It  is  a  speaking  proof  that 
human  happiness  can  never  spring  up 
from  the  soil  of  passion. 

"  Your  mother  was  beaiitiful  and  good. 


She,  like  Monica  and  me,  was  born  and 
brought  xip  in  the  home  I  now  occupy. 
When  your  mother  was  seventeen,  she 
received  the  attentions  of  a  much-respect- 
ed man  from  Kreuznach.  Our  father 
promised  him  his  datighter's  hand.  The 
alliance  was  such  that  it  seemed  to  unite 
in  itself  all  possible  prospects  of  happi- 
ness ;  but  as  our  father  considered  your 
mother  too  young,  no  betrothal  was  to 
take  place  before  a  year.  In  the  mean 
time  your  father  made  acquaintance  in 
our  parents'  hospitable  home,  and  con- 
ceived for  my  beautiful  sister  a  lively 
and  passionate  attachment.  Like  a  con- 
tagious disease,  this  seized  her  heart  also, 
and  under  the  influence  of  it  she  told 
her  father  that  she  could  not  become 
the  wife  of  the  man  to  whom  he  had 
promised  her  hand,  but  that  her  peace 
and  happiness  required  that  she  should 
be  allowed  to  marry  the  one  she  loved. 
Her  father  did  not  wish  to  force  her  to  a 
marriage  against  her  inclination,  so  she 
became  your  father's  wife,  and  that  so 
hastily,  that  one  might  say  she  rushed 
headlong  into  wedlock.  The  first  months 
of  their  marriage  was  one  continual  in- 
toxication of  bliss  ;  but  like  all  other 
intoxications,  this  also  had  an  awakening, 
and  then  your  mother  perceived  that  her 
husband  had  changed  behavior.  The  cup 
of  joy  was  drained,  love  died  out,  and 
weariness  had  taken  its  place.  He  no 
longer  loved  his  wife,  home  was  monoto- 
nous to  him ;  their  child's  crying  seemed 
to  him  unbearable,  and  his  food  never 
pleased  him.  He  gradually  became  a 
stranger  to  his  own  home.  He  was  gone 
whole  days,  and  finally  he  took  long 
journeys.  The  tenderness  he  had  once 
lavished  upon  his  wife  he  now  gave  to 
other  women  ;  he  neglected  his  estate 
and  his  business,  destroyed  his  property, 
and  died  far  from  his  wife,  child,  and 
home,  in  consequence  of  a  duel  that  he 
had  had  in  Wiesbaden.  Sorrow,  jealousy, 
and  trouble  had  undermined  your  moth- 
er's health,  so  that  she  shortly  afterwards 


A'  REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH. 


133 


followed  her  husband  to  the  grave,  con- 
fiding you  to  my  care.  And  now,  Selma, 
what  lesson  can  be  drawn  from  your 
mother's  life  ?  Simply  this,  that  when 
persons  in  the  moment  of  passion  decide 
their  fate,  they  have  only  built  upon  the 
sand  and  must  sooner  or  later  be  buried 
under  the  ruins.  Had  your  mother  mar- 
ried the  man  her  father  destined  for  her, 
she  would  have  come  into  the  enjoyment 
of  that  enduring  and  certain  happiness 
which  has  its  ground  in  mutual  respect 
and  affection.  Her  last  request  to  me 
was,  that  I  should  so  instruct  you,  that 
you  would  never,  like  her,  throw  away 
the  true  gem  to  grasp  the  false,  because 
it  might  appear  more  brilliant." 

Again  there  was  a  pause.  I  felt  de- 
pressed in  mind  from  the  account  of  my 
mother's  unhappy  marriage. 

Probably  what  I  felt  could  be  read  in 
my  face,  for  Uncle  said,  after  a  moment's 
interval,  — 

"  Had  I  followed  the  voice  of  my  own 
heart,  I  would  never  have  initiated  you 
into  your  mother's  sorrows ;  but  she  has 
so  wished,  and  now,  my  child,  this  pain- 
ful duty  is  accomplished.  Let  us  there- 
fore pass  over  to  something  pleasant- 
er!" 

He  took  me  under  the  chin,  raised  up 
my  head  and  added,  — 

"  Now  tell  me,  what  do  you  think  of 
Rolf?" 

"  What  do  I  think  !  "  exclaimed  I ; 
"  why,  that  he  is  the  most  perfect  being, 
next  to  you,  that  the  earth  holds." 

"  That  is  saying  entirely  too  much  of 
him  and  me,"  said  my  uncle.  "There 
are  no  perfect  beings ;  we  are  all  poor, 
poor  creatures  before  the  Lord.  So  you 
like  him  very  much  1 " 

"  More  than  I  can  tell." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  You  would 
thus  have  no  objection  to  becoming  his 
wife  !  " 

"  Uncle  !  "  I  burst  out,  and  stared  at 
the  old  man.  A  feeling  of  amazement 
had  seized  me;  for  notwithstanding  I 


loved  Rolf  as  much  as  a  heart  of  seven- 
teen is  capable  of  loving  it  had  never 
entered  my  mind  that  he  was  to  be  my 
husband,  or  that  our  brother  and  sister 
relation  could  be  changed  to  the  matri- 
monial. 

Uncle  resumed  quite  calmly,  — 

"  Rolf  loves  you  fervently,  and  with 
that  deep  and  true  love  which  is  usually 
a  security  for  future  happiness.  He  is 
a  good  boy,  who  will  never  bring  sorrow 
over  your  head;  I  can  safely  intrust 
your  future  to  his  hands.  You,  on  your 
side,  are  a  lovely  little  dove,  accustomed 
to  coo  in  your  nest  among  the  moun- 
tains, with  such  a  mind  and  heart  that 
he  ought  to  find  with  you  all  the  felicity 
that  God  in  his  grace  can  be  pleased  to 
bestow  upon  those  who  love  and  obey 
him.  Through  this  union,  my  child,  I 
have  placed  at  your  side  a  support 
against  life's  storms,  and  when  I  am 
gone  you  will  have  in  him  your  pro- 
tector, your  friend,  your  other  self. 
Married  to  Rolf,  the  fire  of  passion  will 
never  touch  your  soul  or  burn  your 
heart,  but  you  will  find  peace  in  a  pure 
love.  Well,  my  child,  will  you  have  my 
son  Rolf  ]" 

My  only  answer  was  to  throw  myself 
in  his  arms,  and  assure  him  that  I  was 
happy  and  proud  over  the  choice  he  had 
made  for  me. 

We  then  returned  home. 

Rolf  was  to  take  a  journey  to  Bingen 
on  business  a  few  days  later,  and  would 
not  return  for  a  week  at  least.  When  he 
came  back,  preparations  would  be  made 
for  the  wedding,  so  that  it  could  take 
place  at  midsummer.  My  uncle  told  me 
this  on  the  way  home. 

I  forbear  to  speak  of  the  moment 
when  Rolf  clasped  me  to  his  heart  as 
his  intended  wife.  I  then  knew  for  the 
first  time  how  fervently  I  loved  him,  and 
he  also  gave  me  to  understand  how  deeply 
I  was  loved  in  return. 

Two  days  later,  directly  after  dinner, 
Rolf  started  on  his  journey.  It  seemed 


134 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH. 


to  me  bitter  to  part  with  my  betrothed 
then. 

When  he  was  gone,  I  came  up  here  to 
the  ruins  to  think  of  my  loved  one  un- 
disturbed. 

I  seated  myself  on  the  same  spot 
where  I  am  now  sitting.  The  moon 
shone  brightly,  and  I  sent  a  prayer  of 
gratitude  to  God  for  the  happiness  which 
smiled  upon  me  and  which  I  already 
regarded  as  mine. 

Quite  suddenly  the  stillness  was  broken 
by  a  song  which  was  heard  at  a  distance, 
but  which  gradually  came  nearer  and 
nearer.  It  was  a  song  that  I  had  often 
sung  with  my  cousins.  The  words,  by 
Pearrius,  described  the  merry  times  they 
used  to  have  at  Rheingrafenstein. 

The  voice  that  sung  it  I  had  certainly 
not  heard  for  two  or  three  years;  and 
although  it  now  sounded  stronger  than 
then,  it  was  nevertheless  so  well  known 
to  me  that  I  quite  gladly  sprang  up  from 
my  place,  exclaiming,  "  Gerhard  !  " 

In  a  few  moments  the  singer  became 
visible.  I  was  not  mistaken ;  it  was 
really  Gerhard,  and  he  was  soon  at  my 
side. 

His  joy  at  seeing  me  again  was  turbu- 
lent. He  kissed  my  hands,  he  took  me 
in  his  arms  and  lifted  me  up  high,  re- 
peating a  thousand  times  that  he  was  so 
happy  at  finding  his  beloved  little  sister 
so  beautiful,  that  in  his  joy  over  it  he 
knew  not  what  he  did. 

When  the  first  stormy  outburst  had 
subsided,  we  sat  down  side  by  side  to 
talk.  He  asked  in  a  single  breath  a  mul- 
titude of  questions,  which  he  did  not 
give  me  an  oppoi'tunity  to  answer  how- 
ever, but  said  himself  in  reply  to  them, — 

"  How  childish  I  am  to  ask  you  ques- 
tions. I  ought  to  know  well  enough  that 
nothing  ever  occurs  in  our  dear  valley,  but 
that  everything  here  pursues  its  usual 
course.  The  storms  of  life  rage  on  the 
other  side  of  this  mountain,  without  pen- 
etrating to  the  valley.  0,  how  happy 
are  you  who  have  never  left  this  dale  !  I 


envy  you  your  ignorance  of  the  world, 
and  I  have  returned  to  you  to  live  and 
die  here.  Well,  little  Selma,  have  you 
thought  of  me  any  1 "  added  he,  clasping 
my  hand  in  his. 

"  Yes,  indeed  I  have,"  was  my  an- 
swer. 

"  Perhaps  yotir  thoughts  were  fastened 
upon  me  when  you  heard  my  song  1 " 

"  0  no,  I  was  then  thinking  of  some- 
thing entirely  different.  You  said  that 
nothing  happens  here  in  our  valley ;  but 
you  are  mistaken.  Something  unusual 
has  actually  occurred." 

"  Indeed  !  Has  Rolf  ceased  to  be  a 
saint,  or  has  some  other  young  man 
strayed  here  by  chance,  or  — " 

"  Ah,  you  cannot  possibly  guess  what 
it  is,  dear  Gerhard,  and  you  do  best  in 
not  attempting  it." 

"Well,  that  sounds  good.  I  can  as- 
sure you  beforehand  that  I  am  well 
aware  that  nothing  of  an  unusual  nature 
has  transpired.  I  know  all  about  this 
region ;  one  lives  and  dies  here  without 
knowing  that  he  has  lived." 

"  And  one  marries  !  "  said  I. 

"  Ah  ha,  Rolf  has  thus  chosen  a  wife 
for  himself]  Well,  I  congratulate  him  ! 
I  suppose  she  is  as  tedious  as  seven  fast- 
days  1 " 

"  I  do  not  know  how  you  will  find  her," 
replied  I,  laughing.  "Rolfs  intended 
wife  is  now  before  your  eyes ;  for  it  is 
me  whom  he  is  to  marry." 

"You? "  broke  out  Gerhard,  and  rushed 
up.  "  No,  Selma,  that  is  not  possible." 

"  Yes,  it  is  not  only  possible,  but  it  is 
a  decided  matter,"  uttered  a  voice  behind 
us.  We  turned  round,  and  Gretchen 
stood  there  just  at  the  descent.  "Do 
you  remember  the  story  of  beautiful 
Adelgunda,  whom  the  Evil  One  carried 
away  1 "  asked  she  with  her  crazy  smile. 
"  That  story  fits  all  times." 

Propelled  by  the  same_feeling,  we  rose 
hastily.  Without  replying  to  Gretchen's 
question,  we  descended  in  silence  the 
steep  path  that  leads  from  the  ruin  to 


A  REMINISCENCE   OF  KREUZNACH. 


135 


our  valley.  When  we  were  half-way 
down  Gerhard  seized  my  hand. 

"It  is  nothing  but  a  jest,  Selma,  that 
Eolf  and  you  are  to  be  married  1  You 
only  wished  to  fool  with  me  1 " 

"  Why  should  I  wish  to  do  that  1 "  re- 
joined I. 

"  It  is  all  the  same  why,  if  you  only 
admit  that  it  is  so." 

"  I  cannot  do  that,  Gerhard ;  the  thing 
is  just  as  certain  as  that  we  are  now  on 
the  way  home.  It  was  decided  two  days 
ago,  and  our  wedding  will  take  .place  at 
midsummer." 

I  said  this  with  the  childish  pride  a 
girl  of  seventeen  feels  when  she  speaks  of 
getting  married. 

Gerhard  pressed  my  hand  hard  and 
muttered,  — 

"  Inconsiderate  child,  why  did  you  tell 
me  that  ]  But  it  is  a  good  while  to  mid- 
summer, and  much  can  happen  before 
then.  Admit  that  if  you  had  been  al- 
lowed to  choose  for  yourself,  you  would 
never  have  chosen  Rolf? " 

"Yes,  I  certainly  should,"  exclaimed  I. 
"  My  heart  feels  proud  and  happy  to  be- 
long to  him." 

"You  only  make  the  evil  still  worse 
with  these  words.  It  would  have  been 
better  if  you  had  let  me  believe  the  con- 
trary." 

"Dear  Gerhard,  how  strangely  you 
talk !  Who  in  the  whole  world  should 
I  rather  have  had  for  a  husband  than 
Rolf?"' 

"  Me  ! " 

"  At  this  moment  he  stood  so  that  the 
moon's  rays  fell  on  his  classic  features. 
An  unaccountable  feeling  went  through 
my  soul. 

I  experienced  something  resembling 
fear,  and  had  a  good  mind  to  fly  far  from 
him. 

"  So  must  Kuno  have  looked  when  he 
tempted  Adelgunda  to  unfaithfulness," 
thought  I  quite  involuntarily,  and  turned 
away. 

A  few  days  after  Gerhard's  arrival  we 


received  a  letter  from  Rolf,  saying  that 
he  was  obliged  to  go  to  Coblenz  and 
Berlin  on  account  of  business,  and  should 
not  return  before  two  or  three  weeks. 

This  news  troubled  me.  I  felt  uneasy 
with  Gerhard,  who  at  the  intelligence  of 
his  brother's  prolonged  absence  seemed 
quite  glad. 

As  calm  and  peaceful  as  my  days  had 
hitherto  passed,  they  were  stormy  now. 

Towards  his  father  Gerhard  was  more 
affectionate,  attentive,  and  submissive 
than  ever.  He  complied  with  his  desires 
and  conformed  to  his  will.  He  never  gave 
him  any  cause  for  displeasure ;  but  the 
restraint  he  laid  upon  himself  with  re- 
spect to  Uncle,  he  considered  entirely  su- 
perfluous with  me.  He  was  passionate, 
bitter,  and  impatient  at  one  moment, 
tender,  unhappy,  and  despairing  the 
next. 

We  had  not  been  together  many  days 
before  he  told  me  that  he  loved  me,  that 
he  should  never  survive  the  day  when  I 
became  the  wife  of  another,  etc. 

Unacquainted  with  human  passions, 
without  any  power  to  restrain  their  out- 
break, I  became  the  object  of  a  passion- 
ate love.  He  pursued  me  with  his 
jealousy,  tormented  me  with  his  com- 
plaints, and  could  lacerate  my  heart 
with  descriptions  of  his  anguish,  until 
he  forced  me  to  some  expression  of  com- 
passion that  resembled  tenderness.  Had 
I  been  less  inexperienced,  I  should  have 
known  that  the  only  thing  a  virtuous 
woman  has  to  do,  when  she  finds  herself 
the  object  of  a  love  to  which  she  cannot 
respond,  is  constantly  to  maintain  an  icy 
coldness,  and  not  allow  herself  to  be 
tempted  out  of  pity  to  involuntarily  en- 
courage a  feeling  which  she  cannot  share. 
As  it  was,  Gerhard,  through  his  wild  out- 
bursts, could  get  me  to  do  much  which  I 
afterwards  disapproved.  I  accompanied 
him  in  his  walks  up  here,  wept  over  his 
pangs,  and  tried  to  mitigate  them  with 
my  kindness. 

I   could  not  bear  to  tell  Uncle   that 


136 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH. 


Gerhard  pursued  me  with  his  love,  for  I 
did  not  wish  to  trouble  the  old  man  or 
disturb  the  good  condition  between  fa- 
ther and  son.  I  hoped  everything  from 
Rolfs  return.  It  never  occurred  to  me 
for  an  instant  that  Gerhard  could  be  a 
hindrance  to  my  union  with  Rolf. 

At  length  Rolf  came  home.  I  threw 
myself  in  his  arms  with  a  cry  of  joy,  and 
he  clasped  me  so  faithfully,  so  warmly  to 
his  breast,  as  he  pressed  a  kiss  upon  my 
brow  and  called  me  by  the  tenderest  of 
names. 

I  felt  so  safe  and  calm,  believing  that 
I  had  now  foxmd  the  refuge  in  which  I 
could  repose,  without  anxiety  for  the 
storms  of  life.  Gerhard's  wild  love 
should  not  pursue  me  there. 

In  my  joy  at  seeing  Rolf  again  I  for- 
got that  Gerhard  was  a  few  steps  from 
us,  until  the  sound  of  his  voice  reminded 
me  of  it. 

"Welcome  home,  Rolf,"  said  he;  "I 
have  long  desired  to  see  you." 

I  snatched  myself,  frightened,  from 
Rolfs  arms.  I  now  remembered  that 
Gerhard  had  said  a  few  days  before,  that 
if  I  dared  to  show  Rolf  the  least  tender- 
ness in  his  presence  he  should  take  re- 
venge upon  him  for  the  happiness  of 
which  he  had  been  deprived. 

Rolf  turned  from  me  to  him  and  offered 
him  his  hand  kindly,  with  the  words,  — 

"  Good  morning,  Gerhard,  I  did  not 
see  you  in  the  joy  of  meeting  Selma 
again.  You  know  what  she  now  is  to 
me,  and  you  also  understand  that  at  the 
sight  of  her  I  must  forget  all  else." 

"  0  yes,  I  understand  it  very  well," 
replied  Gerhard  with  pale  lips,  and  added 
with  a  smile  of  scorn,  "  brotherly  affec- 
tion generally  suffers  shipwreck  when 
love  comes  into  play." 

One  is  selfish  when  young  and  in  love. 
All  the  anguish,  all  the  fear,  uneasiness, 
and  compassion  I  entertained  for  Ger- 
hard was  forgotten  when  Rolf  returned, 
and  I  enjoyed  my  own  happiness  in  full 
draughts,  unmindful  of  Gerhard. 


Several  happy  days  elapsed. 

Gerhard  went  off  hunting  and  was  nev- 
er at  home.  Rolf  and  I  idealized  as  two 
young  and  happy  people  are  in  the  habit 
of  doing.  We  built  castles  in  the  air  for 
the  future,  and  I  forgot  to  tell  Rolf  what 
had  happened  in  his  absence,  or  to  men- 
tion Gerhard's  love  for  me  as  I  had  re- 
solved to  do  ;  it  passed  from  my  mind 
when  Gerhard  was  not  seen,  but  I  was 
destined  bitterly  to  repent  this  forgetful- 
ness  in  the  future. 

A  week  after  Rolfs  return  he  went 
quite  early  one  morning  to  visit  some  of 
Uncle's  vineyards,  which  lay  at  a  little 
distance. 

Gerhard  had  come  home  the  evening 
before,  and  a  violent  scene  occurred  be- 
tween him  and  me.  He  declared  that  if 
I  dared  to  marry  Rolf,  he  would  kill  him- 
self. I  conjured  him  to  be  calm  ;  I  wept, 
I  entreated  him  not  to  make  us  all  mis- 
erable, but  my  words  had  no  effect  on 
him.  He  demanded  me  to  give  up  Rolf; 
and  when  I  told  him  that  was  impossible, 
he  swore  that  he  would  not  survive  the 
day  when  I  became  his  brother's  wife. 

We  were  in  the  saloon  during  this 
scene.  Uncle  was  out,  Aunt  Monica  had 
gone  to  the  village,  and  the  servants 
were  at  work. 

In  the  midst  of  it  Rolf  returned  and 
stepped  into  the  saloon.  Both  Gerhard 
and  I  were  agitated.  Rolf  regarded  us 
with  a  singular  look.  He  who  was  glad 
and  smiling  when  he  went  out  was  now 
more  gloomy  and  stern  than  I  had  ever 
seen  him  before. 

Without  saying  a  single  word  either  to 
Gerhard  or  me,  he  took  his  way  across 
the  saloon  and  into  his  room.  He  closed 
and  bolted  the  door  after  him. 

When  I  was  alone  after  Gerhard  left,  I 
determined  to  tell  Rolf  all.  He  would 
certainly  prevent  any  misfortune  from 
occurring.  He  would  talk  with  Gerhard 
and  bring  him  to  reason.  I  went  to 
Rolfs  door  and  knocked,  calling  to  him 
that  I  had  something  to  say. 


A  REMINISCENCE  OP  KREUZNACH. 


137 


His  answer  was.  — 

"I  have  no  time,  do  not  disturo  me." 

Troubled  and  anxious,  I  went  up  to 
my  room,  where  I  spent  the  whole  fore- 
noon. 

When  I  went  down  into  the  saloon  at 
dinner-time,  I  found  Uncle  and  his  two 
sons  there.  They  were  conversing  on 
indifferent  things.  Gerhard  walked  to 
and  fro.  His  face  showed  that  behind 
an  apparent  calmness  he  concealed  some 
violent  emotion.  Rolf  looked  stern  and 
serious.  The  look  he  fastened  upon  me 
when  I  entered  had  something  so  singu- 
lar, that  I  did  not  understand  its  expres- 
sion. 

After  dinner  I  seated  myself  on  the' 
stoop.  I  had  scarcely  taken  my  place, 
before  Rolf  came  out  to  me.  He  stood 
a  moment  and  contemplated  the  ruins 
of  Rheingrafenstein  overhanging  our 
heads.  Then  he  turned  to  me  with  the 
words,  — 

"  Have  you  often  visited  the  ruins  up 
there,  Selma,  while  I  have  been  away  1 " 

"  Yes,"  was  my  answer. 

"  But  you  have  not  been  there  alone  ? " 

"  No,  Gerhard  and  I  have  gone  togeth- 
er." 

"  Or  met  there ;  is  it  not  so  1 " 

"  Yes,  also  that." 

"  Gretchen  has  told  me  so,"  said  Rolf, 
and  turned  to  go  in. 

"  Stop  !  "  I  cried,  and  seized  his  hand. 
"  Ah,  Rolf,  there  is  something  I  wish  to 
tell  you,  but  which  I  have  hitherto  for- 
gotten to  mention,  and  that  is  that  —  " 

"  You  consoled  yourself  with  Gerhard 
over  my  absence,"  said  Rolf  hastily,  and 
drew  away  his  hand.  "  You  were  wrong- 
in  forgetting  to  mention  this,"  added  he, 
and  his  eyes  flashed.  "  Through  your 
silence  you  have  ca\ised  me  to  doubt 
much  which  I  hitherto  believed." 

He  again  turned  from  me  to  go  into 
the  saloon. 

"  Rolf,  let  me  talk  with  you,"  I  prayed, 
and  tried  once  more  to  detain  him. 

"  It  is  unnecessary,  Selma,  I  know  all, 


and  desire  to  spare  an  explanation  which 
now  comes  somewhat  late." 

It  was  the  first  time  in  my  life  that  I 
saw  Rolf  out  of  temper,  and  I  was  so 
troubled  over  it  that  I  stole  away  to 
weep  in  solitude. 

These  were  the  first  tears  grief  drew 
from  me.  I  went  down  to  the  river  and 
seated  myself  on  the  bank. 

The  evening  came.  The  birds  sang 
so  gladly  in  the  tops  of  the  trees  and  the 
air  was  full  of  fragrance.  It  was  one 
of  those  charming  summer  evenings 
which  are  so  glorious  all  over -the  world, 
but  which  seem  still  more  glorious  in  this 
region.  The  sun's  last  rays  no  longer 
illumined  the  summits  of  the  moun- 
tains. The  moon  kindled  her  pale  light 
and  strewed  silver  over  the  heights.  • 

Nature's  peace  around  me  poured  its 
balm  in  my  soul ;  the  tears  ceased  to 
flow,  and  I  again  looked  hopefully  up  to 
heaven.  I  had  not  done  any  wrong ;  why 
then  should  sorrow  visit  me  ! 

Calm  had  just  returned  to  my  heart, 
when  a  voice  quite  near  me  uttered,  — 

"Your  place  is  not  here,  but  up  at 
Rheingrafenstein;  go  quickly;  the  two 
brothers  are  there.  The  Evil  One  sits 
with  open  arms,  waiting  to  get  one  of 
them  in  his  embrace ;  for  there  is  again 
the  strife  of  brothers.  How  it  will  end  the 
stars  only  know.  Hasten,  girl,  to  snatch 
the  victim  from  the  jailer  of  Adelgunda's 
dark  prison.  It  is  Rolf  and  Gerhard 
who  quarrel  up  there. 

"  How  the  contest  will  end  the  one  can  say 
Who  carried  Eberhard's  love  away," 

sang  the  crazy  girl,  and  went  off,  pointing 
to  the  ruins. 

How  I  came  here  I  do  not  remem- 
ber. When  I  reached  the  top  of  the 
ascent,  I  saw  Rolf  and  Gerhard  standing- 
over  there  at  the  precipice.  Gerhard 
had  laid  his  hand  on  Rolfs  shoulder, 
and  the  latter  said  in  an  agitated 
voice,  — 

"  Unless  you  can  prove  to  me  that  it 


138 


is  you  she  loves,  you  will  not  be  able  to 
make  me  give  her  up.  She  would  be 
unhappy  at  your  side,  and  I  hold  Selma 
too  dear  to  wish  to  promote  your  happi- 
ness at  the  expense  of  hers.  You  have 
now  heard  my  answer." 

"  Then  she  shall  not  belong  to  either 
of  us,"  roared  Gerhard.  "  You  have  al- 
ways stood  in  my  way,  always  been 
preferred  to  me ;  but  this  time  you  shall 
not  be  happy  at  my  cost."  He  threw 
his  arms  around  his  brother's  body. 

A  moment  they  both  reeled  at  the 
edge  of  the  precipice.  What  I  felt  at 
this,  I  know  not ;  but  it  stands  clear  to 
my  memory  that  in  the  next  second  I 
had  thrown  my  arms  around  Rolfs 
limbs.  When  I  looked  up  he  stood 
erect,  holding  Gerhard  clasped  in  his 
arms. 

"  Selma ! "  they  both  exclaimed.  Rolfs 
arms  loosened,  and  the  brothers  stood  at 
a  little  distance  from  each  other. 

Rolf  bent  down  to  raise  me  up.  His 
face  was  deadly  pale. 

"  Stand  up,  Selma,  and  try  to  end 
this  quarrel  which  has  been  near  costing 
Gerhard  and  me  our  lives  and  covering 
our  father's  gray  hairs  with  sorrow.  Say 
which  of  us  two  you  love ;  but  speak 
the  truth,  as  if  you  stood  before  God." 

"  You,  Rolf,"  I  faltered,  scarcely  able 
to  stand. 

"  Then  you  have  trifled  with  my  heart 
in  an  abominable  manner,"  exclaimed 
Gerhard.  "Your  words  now  stand  in  oppo- 
sition to  all  your  previous  utterances  and 
actions.  It  is  our  father's  will,  not  the 
voice  of  your  own  feeling,  that  you  obey, 
when  you  say  so,"  added  he,  seizing  my 
arm.  "  Why  do  you  lie,"  continued  he 
with  increasing  vehemence,  "at  a  mo- 
ment when  it  treats  of  life  and  death? 
Why  have  you  not  courage  to  acknowl- 
edge the  truth,  to  confess  that  you  love 
me,  when  everything  with  us  indicates 
that  it  is  so.  Have  you  not,  during  this 
time  in  which  I  have  spoken  the  language 
of  love  to  you,  wept  and  declared  that 


you  would  like  to  make  me  happy  it  you 
could  1  Have  you  a  single  once  spoken 
of  your  love  for  Rolf] " 

"  No,  I  have  not,"  I  stammered ;  "  but 
that  has  been  because  I  did  not  wish  to 
trouble  you.  0  Gerhard,  how  can  you 
wish  to  assert  that  I  love  you,  when 
much  ought  to  have  convinced  you  of 
the  contrary  1 " 

"You  will  thus  not  become  mine1!" 
shrieked  Gerhard. 

"  No  ! " 

"  Then  you  shall  not  be  Rolfs  either !  " 
cried  Gerhard;  "you  will  have  to  pay 
dearly  for  your  play  with  my  heart." 
He  stalled  to  the  edge  of  the  platform, 
adding,  "You  may  answer  for  my  death 
before  God  and  my  father." 

For  the  second  time  within  the  lapse 
of  a  few  minutes  I  saw  him  tremble  over 
the  abyss  and  —  fall.  I  uttered  a  shriek 
of  despair  and  sank  down  on  my  knees, 
covering  my  face  with  my  hands. 

"  Have  you  not  yet  had  enough  of  this 
mad  game  V'  I  heard  Rolf  say.  I  looked 
up  quickly. 

On  the  grass  plot  here  at  the  cross 
Gerhard  lay  motionless,  with  his  head 
fractured  and  bleeding. 

Rolf  was  on  his  knees  with  the  whole 
weight  of  his  body  over  him,  thus  hold- 
ing him  still.  Gerhard,  although  badly 
maimed,  made  several  ineffectual  at- 
tempts to  get  up. 

Rolf  said  in  a  stern  tone,  — 

"  It  is  fruitless  for  you  to  try  to  be- 
come free ;  you  ought  to  know  of  old 
that  I  am  the  stronger.  Lie  still,  there- 
fore, until  you  regain  the  use  of  your 
reason." 

"  Look  here,  Rolf,"  said  Gerhard,  pant- 
ing ;  "  if  you  even  succeed  now  in  hold- 
ing me  captive,  you  will  be  obliged  to 
let  go  of  me  some  time,  and  I  swear,  by 
all  the  saints,  that  if  I  should  be  com- 
pelled to  strangle  myself  with  my  own 
hands,  I  will  not  refrain  from  taking  my 
life,  unless  Selma  gives  me  the  heart  she 
allowed  me  to  hope  that  I  possessed. 


A   REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH 


139 


You  know  how  little  I  value  life,  and 
you  can  be  sure  that  I  do  not  care  more 
for  it  now.  It  is  thus  Selma  or  death." 

"  If  I  give  up  Selma,"  said  Rolf  with  an 
effort,  "will  you  then  come  to  your 
senses ] " 

"  No,  that  is  not  enough  for  me.  She 
must  become  mine  or  away  with  life  !  I 
shall  not  survive  this  night,  I  swear  it  by 
the  shade  of  my  mother." 

Rolf  rose.  He  released  Gerhard  and 
said,  turning  to  me,  — 

"  You  and  I  are  separated.  It  re- 
mains for  you,  Selma,  to  decide  over  his 
life  or  death.  So  act,  that  you  can  an- 
answer  for  it  before  the  Highest.  May 
God  forgive  you  for  promising  love  to  us 
both,  I  shall  try  to  do  so." 

Tears,  this  resource  of  woman  in  the 
moment  of  grief,  started  down  my 
cheeks.  I  reached  Gerhard  my  hand, 
whispering  in  an  almost  inaudible 
voice,  — 

"As  you  will." 

He  seized  my  hand  hastily  and  tried 
to  rise,  but  the  blood  ran  from  two 
wounds  in  his  head,  and  he  was  again  pale 
and  lifeless. 

Without  saying  a  word  Rolf  lifted  him 
up  on  his  strong  shoulders,  and  we  went 
down  the  steep  and  narrow  path. 

Days  and  weeks  elapsed  before  Ger- 
hard's wounds  were  healed.  I  sat  by  his 
sick-bed,  and  dared  not  leave  it  for  fear 
of  exciting  him.  It  had  happened  once 
or  twice,  that  in  an  attack  of  jealousy, 
when  I  stayed  out  a  little  too  long,  he 
pulled  off  the  bandage  and  tore  open  the 
half-healed  wounds. 

What  a  season  of  anguish,  what  weeks 
of  nameless  agony ! 

The  day  after  the  terrible  occurrence 
at  Rheingrafenstein,  Rolf  had  a  long 
conversation  with  his  father.  After  it, 
Uncle  said  to  me  that  my  place  hence- 
forth was  at  Gerhard's  bedside.  He 
patted  rne  on  the  head  and  looked  in  my 
eyes  with  a  deeply  sorrowful  gaze. 

When  Gerhard's  injuries  were  almost 


well  and  he  was  fairly  on  the  road  of  re- 
covery, Rolf  came  in  to  him  and  said, 
that  he  was  going  to  start  the  next  day, 
according  to  their  father's  desire,  on  a 
long  journey  to  France  and  England,  to 
make  himself  acquainted  with  the  mer- 
chant's calling.  He  should  be  gone  two 
or  three  years.  In  a  perfectly  calm 
voice  he  enjoined  Gerhard  to  make  me 
happy,  and  then  bade  him  farewell.  Ger- 
hard pressed  his  brother's  hand  in  si- 
lence. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  of  the  same 
day  when  I  left  Gerhard's  room  and 
stepped  out  into  the  saloon. 

Rolf,  who  had  carefully  avoided  me  all 
this  time,  was  standing  at  one  of  the 
windows.  When  I  entered  he  came  to- 
wards me. 

"I  leave  in  the  morning  before  the 
sun  is  up,"  said  he,  "  and  will  therefore 
bid  you  farewell  this  evening." 

He  took  my  hand  and  led  me  out  on  one 
of  the  vine-covered  porches,  adding,  — 

"  Before  we  part  for  a  long  time,  per- 
haps forever,  I  desire  to  speak  a  few 
words  to  you,  which  I  beg  you  to  bear 
in  mind." 

Without  saying  anything  disapproving 
about  his  brother  or  reproaching  me  for 
my  silence,  he  showed  me  that  I  had 
occasioned  much  evil  through  it,  which 
might  have  been  avoided  if  I  had  imme- 
diately at  his  return  told  him  all.  He 
tried  to  prove  to  me  that  the  only  thing 
which  palliates  a  fault 'is  honestly  to 
confess  it,  and  that  without  truth  and 
sincerity  no  happiness  can  be  found. 

Once  or  twice,  while  he  was  speaking, 
I  tried  to  interrupt  him,  for  his  words 
showed  that  he  was  fully  persuaded  that 
I  loved  Gerhard;  but  every  time  I 
opened  my  mouth,  he  stopped  me.  Fi- 
nally he  said  with  deep  earnestness,  — 

"  Never  forget,  Selma,  that  the  father 
of  the  man  who  is  to  become  your  hus- 
band thinks  of  your  future  with  fear  and 
anxiety.  Try  to  reconcile  him  to  your 
union  with  Gerhard;  summon  all  your 


140 


A  REMINISCENCE   OF  KREUZNACH. 


power  to  fulfil  your  duty  in  a  worthy 
manner.  May  God  and  all  the  saints 
protect  you,  my  beloved  one." 

His  lips  touched  my  brow  and  he  left 
me.  I  melted  into  tears. 

God  alone  read  my  heart  and  knew 
how  deeply  I  loved  him  at  this  moment. 

Rolf  was  gone,  and  Gerhard  returned 
to  health. 

When  he  was  fully  recovered,  Uncle 
informed  us  that  he  had  nothing  against 
our  union,  since  he  had  heard  from 
Rolf  that  we  ourselves  desired  it,  but 
that  he  attached  one  condition  to  it, 
founded  upon  his  knowledge  of  Gerhard's 
character.  This  was  that  Gerhard  should 
complete  his  twenty-fourth  year  before 
he  obtained  me  as  a  wife.  He  was  now 
twenty-two.  He  should  spend  the  inter- 
vening time  at  home,  as  he  had  himself 
desired  to  become  an  agriculturalist  and 
to  make  himself  familiar  with  this  new 
pursuit. 

If  at  the  end  of  this  time  Gerhard  was 
faithful  in  his  attachment  to  me,  and 
stood  firm  in  his  desire  to  take  charge 
of  Uncle's  place  at  the  border  of  the  vil- 
lage, we  should  be  united. 

Gerhard  accommodated  himself,  al- 
though somewhat  reluctantly,  to  his 
father's  decision.  He  hoped  to  be  able 
to  contract  the  two  years  to  one. 

The  first  year  was  rich  in  emotional 
scenes.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  had  a 
foretaste  of  purgatory.  Gerhard  was  dis- 
trustful, domineering,  exacting,  and  often 
indulged  in  the  most  wounding  remarks. 
He  could  not  rid  himself  of  the  thought 
that  I  kept  up  some  secret  correspond- 
ence with  Rolf.  Without  considering 
that  he  had  forced  the  promise  of  my 
hand,  he  blamed  me  for  unfaithfulness, 
in  case  I  loved  Rolf  in  my  heart.  One 
day  wild,  ungovernable,  and  ready  to  take 
both  my  life  and  his  own  to  escape  the 
agony  he  endured  at  the  thought  that  I 
loved  another,  he  was  the  next  tender, 
repentant,  and  anxious  to  do  everything 
to  atone  for  his  faults. 


Had  I  been  used  to  such  outbreaks, 
they  would  perhaps  have  affected  me 
less  :  as  it  was  my  life  had  passed 
quietly  and  without  anything  that  could 
be  called  scenes.  This  made  me  feel 
depressed  by  my  painful  position  towards 
Gerhard.  I  endeavored  to  conceal  my 
suffering  from  Uncle,  however,  and  to 
keep  him  in  ignorance  of  the  explosions 
between  Gerhard  and  me ;  but  I  was  not 
accustomed  to  disguise,  and  my  cheerful- 
ness had  fled.  I  no  longer  sang  any 
glad  songs,  nor  rambled,  blithe  and  free 
from  care,  among  our  mountains,  but  I 
stayed  at  home  and  saw  one  day  pass 
after  another  without  rejoicing  at  my 
existence.  When  the  first  year  began  to 
draw  to  an  end,  I  had  changed  so  con- 
siderably that  Uncle  became  anxious. 
He  said  to  me,  — 

"  How  is  it,  Selma  ?  I  begin  to  fear 
that  Gerhard  makes  your  life  bitter,  and 
that  you  already  repent  the  step  you 
have  taken." 

I  looked  up  in  his  face  and  remem- 
bered Rolf's  farewell  words.  Throwing 
my  arms  about  the  old  man's  neck  I 
faltered,  — 

"  I  am  afraid  of  not  being  able  to  be 
all  that  I  wish  to  Gerhard  and  you." 

"  Do  you  really  like  him  1 "  asked 
Uncle,  patting  me. 

"  Yes,  I  do ;  but  not  as  I  have  liked 
Rolf." 

To  repeat  the  words  Uncle  then  spoke 
serves  nothing.  He  said  that  Gerhard 
was  the  child  who  lay  nearest  his  heart, 
for  the  very  reason  that  his  character 
was  such  that  it  inspired  fear  and  anx- 
iety. Gerhard  was  the  image  of  his 
regretted  wife.  This  had  made  him 
dear  to  the  father ;  but  just  this  affec- 
tion which  he  cherished  for  his  son  had 
made  him  try  to  counteract  his  faults  by 
means  of  severity,  and  to  bring  the  dis- 
orderly and  turbulent  elements  in  his 
nature  to  harmony. 

The  events  which  had  prevented  my 
union  with  Rolf,  however,  had  shown 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH. 


141 


him  that  Gerhard  was  still  ready  to 
throw  away  life  and  salvation  in  the 
moment  of  passion. 

"  This  discovery,  my  beloved  child, 
has  led  me  to  the  conclusion  that  God  in 
his  mercy  makes  him  attached  to  you, 
so  that  you  with  jour  mild  character 
and  the  power  of  love  shall  succeed  in 
ennobling  him.  I  had  wished,  through 
the  union  between  you  and  Rolf,  to  secure 
your  happiness.  God  has  decided  other- 
wise; he  has  chosen  you  for  a  higher 
destiny,  that  of  guiding  Gerhard  in  the 
way  of  right.  The  Holy  Mother  will 
give  you  strength  and  power  to  fulfil 
this  destiny." 

After  this  conversation  I  tried  to  for- 
get my  own  sufferings  and  to  keep  the 
idea  before  my  mind  that  I  was  Ger- 
hard's good  angel,  who  was  to  elevate  his 
character. 

My  manner  towards  Gerhard  changed 
completely.  I  did  not  weep  so  often, 
and  forced  myself  to  think  less  of  Rolf 
and  more  of  him.  When  he  had  his 
attacks  of  jealousy,  I  exerted  all  my  pow- 
er to  calm  him  and  convince  him  that  it 
was  without  cause.  I  was  happier  my- 
self from  making  him  contented,  and  I 
actually  began  to  think  that  I  could 
have  a  beneficial  effect  upon  his  disposi- 
tion and  character. 

A  short  season  of  peace  followed,  after 
I  tried  in  a  way  satisfying  to  my  better 
feeling  to  identify  myself  with  the  role 
that  had  been  appointed  me.  My  affec- 
tion for  Gerhard  became  through  this 
more  true  and  real.  It  gave  me  a  joyful 
satisfaction  when  I  seemed  to  read  inner 
contentment  in  his  whole  appearance. 
I  endeavored  to  forget  that  he  had  been 
the  one  who  separated  me  from  my 
heart's  love.  One  day  I  shall  perhaps 
love  Gerhard  with  the  same  feeling  that 
I  now  entertain  for  Rolf,  thought  I. 
This  hopeful  period  did  not  last  long, 
however. 

Gerhard,  who  during  the  few  weeks  it 
continued  had  stayed  at  home  and  occu- 


pied himself  with  agriculture  and  the 
cultivation  of  the  vine,  now  began  to 
roam  around,  hunting  again.  He  no 
longer  looked  after  the  hired  men,  no 
longer  kept  company  with  Uncle  and  me. 
He  had  only  one  thought,  one  desire, 
and  that  was  to  hunt.  These  hunts, 
upon  which  he  could  be  gone  several 
days,  awakened  Uncle's  uneasiness.  The 
consequence  of  all  this  was,  that  when 
Gerhard  returned  home,  I  endeavored 
with  redoubled  friendliness  to  prevail 
upon  him  to  remain  there  and  not  go 
away  any  more  ;  but  my  power  over  his 
heart  was  gone,  and  he  who  during  the 
first  year  had  only  been  governed  by  his 
love,  and  begged  on  his  knees  for  a  little 
heartiness  from  my  side,  now  repelled  it 
with  impatience ;  and  instead  of  keeping 
him  at  home  as  I  hoped,  my  attention 
only  drove  him  from  it. 

With  these  new  grounds  for  inquie- 
tude, the  time  advanced. 

My  Uncle  became  more  and  more  si- 
lent. Gerhard's  name  was  seldom  men- 
tioned between  us.  It  was  as  if  we  both 
feared  to  speak  of  his  unkind  behavior. 

The  second  year  of  our  betrothal  ap- 
proached its  close,  when  an  event  very 
unusual  in  our  valley  occurred,  and  that 
was  a  theft. 

Aunt  Monica  had  been  in  Kreuznach 
to  draw  the  little  means  which  she  had 
deposited  there,  and  which  she  agreed  to 
invest  in  Uncle's  estate. 

It  was  somewhat  late  in  the  evening 
when  she  came  home,  and  all  had  retired 
except  one  servant,  who  sat  up  waiting 
for  her.  The  following  morning,  before 
Uncle  had  risen,  Aunt  came  rushing  in  to 
him,  crying  that  she  was  robbed ;  that 
the  eighteen  hundred  thalers  she  brought 
home  with  her  the  night  before  were 
gone. 

Uncle  and  I  smiled  at  this,  and  would 
not  believe  it ;  but  it  was  so,  neverthe- 
less, for  the  money  which  the  old  lady 
put  in  her  bureau  at  night  had  actually 
disappeared.  Aunt  Monica  notified  the 


142 


A  REMINISCEXCE  OF  KREUZXACH. 


shoriff  of  the  matter,  but  without  being 
able  to  mention  any  one  whom  she  sus- 
pected of  the  theft. 

In  the  course  of  two  or  three  days, 
Gerhard,  who  had  been  off  hunting  dur- 
ing this  occurrence,  returned  home.  He 
was  in  a  particularly  testy  humor,  and 
spent  some  hours  shut  up  in  his  room, 
engaged  in  writing  an  answer  to  a  letter 
from  Rolf,  which  he  received  on  his  arri- 
val. Towards  evening  he  went  away 
again,  and  that  without  saying  a  word 
cither  to  Uncle  or  me. 

The  next  morning  I  went  up  in  his 
room  to  put  it  in  order  before  he  came 
home. 

Among  the  papers  on  his  writing-table 
lay  a  half-written  letter.  My  eyes  fell 
upon  it.  It  was- to  Rolf. 

My  curiosity  became  at  this  altogether 
too  great  for  me  to  resist  the  temptation 
of  reading  what  he  had  written  to  his 
brother. 

The  contents  of  the  letter  were  about 
the  following :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  ROLF  :  Your  last  letter 
was  so  cursedly  tedious  and  stupid  that 
I  was  scarcely  able  to  read  it  through. 
What  use  is  it  for  you  to  lecture  me 
about  my  changeableness,  the  culpability 
of  my  actions,  etc.  Such  as  nature  made 
me,  I  am  once  for  all,  and  you  need  not 
think  that  your  words  have  the  power  to 
change  anything  in  my  character. 

"  I  cannot  be  like  you,  it  is  true  ;  but 
I  am  not  to  blame  that  my  soul  has 
wings  and  desires  to  soar,  while  yours 
resembles  the  snail  which  contents  itself 
with  staying  in  the  same  place.  My 
feelings  need  to  fly  around,  require  change 
and  contests,  in  order  that  they  may  not 
kill  me.  Yes,  I  should  die  if  I  were 
compelled  to  bind  myself  to  agriculture, 
vine-growing,  prayer  books,  and  a  wo- 
man. 

"It  is  of  this  latter  that  I  wish  to 
ppoak. 

"  Thus  you  reproached  me  for  loving 


Selma,  and  for  separating  you  and  her 
by  my  wild  passion. 

"  Folly  !  As  well  reproach  the  earth 
because  the  tornado  tears  up  the  trees, 
as  me  for  being  ruled  by  a  violent  pas- 
sion. The  earth  is  not  to  blame  for 
being  devastated  by  the  elements,  and  I 
am  not  to  blame  because  I  am  filled  with 
ungovernable  feelings,  and  cannot  weigh 
these  upon  that  monstrous  balance  which 
is  called  duty. 

"  Do  you  really  consider  it  possible 
that  I  could  love  Selma  for  any  length  of 
time,  feel  happy  at  her  side,  and  drag  out 
my  life  between  these  mountains,  cultivat- 
ing my  fields  and  rocking  my  children  1 

"  Can  you  seriously  assert  that  I  am 
created  for  such  an  existence  1 

"  No,  I  was  born  for  freedom,  activity, 
and  change. 

"The  feeling  I  had  for  Selma  arose 
instantly  and  disappeared  as  suddenly. 

"  The  fault  was  my  father's,  hers,  and 
yours,  in  seeing  in  it  anything  but  a 
passing  flame  which  blazed  too  high  to 
last  long. 

"  The  fire  is  burned  out,  and  what  do 
you  wish  me  to  do  with  the  ashes?  I 
cannot  get  them  to  burn.  That  which 
is  dead  cannot  return  to  life. 

"  My  connection  with  Selma  now 
seems  to  me  like  an  oppressive  burden, 
something  that  encumbers  and  excites 
my  aversion. 

"  She  is  to  my  eyes  insipid  and  monot- 
onous, and  I  feel  an  irresistible  incli- 
nation to  hasten  far  away  whenever  I 
see  her. 

"I  conjure  you,  come  back  and  take 
your  true  love  again ;  she  is  not  suited 
to  me,  as  I  once  imagined.  My  only  de- 
sire is  to  regain  freedom. 

"  It  is  in  general  a  sad  truth,  that  the 
more  violent  a  feeling  is,  so  long  as  it 
encounters  resistance  and  seems  impossi- 
ble to  satisfy,  the  more  quickly  it  dies 
out  when  the  hindrances  are  taken  away 
and  everything  cries,  You  have  attained 
your  object ! 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH. 


143 


"  As  long  as  Selma's  tearful  eyes,  de- 
jected arid  cold  manner  inspired  doubts 
of  her  love,  my  soul  burned  with  the  de- 
sire to  come  into  possession  of  her  heart ; 
but  now  everything  tells  me  that  I  pos- 
sess it,  that  she  loves  me  with  all  her 
heart,  and  I  ask,  What  shall  I  do  with 
it  ?  My  love  cannot  do  otherwise  than  die 
out,  when  it  no  longer  has  anything  to 
disturb  and  stimulate  it.  Or  do  you 
think  that  I  shall  allow  an  inclination  to 
be  sanctioned  which  has  its  existence 
only  in  the  memory  of  having  been  1 
Ah,  my  honest  brother,  I  leave  it  to  you 
to—" 

Here  the  letter  was  broken  off.  Prob- 
ably he  had  got  tired  of  writing  longer, 
thrown  it  aside,  and  gone  out. 

I  left  his  room  quickly  and  tried  in 
solitude  to  collect  my  thoughts. 

Toward  evening  I  went  up  to  the  ruins. 

The  remembrance  of  the  scene  which 
separated  me  from  Rolf  stood  vividly 
before  me  when  I  found  myself  here.  I 
lacked  courage  to  come  up  here  on  the 
plateau  where  I  had  seen  the  same 
brothers  in  conflict  for  my  sake  who  had 
now  both  abandoned  me.  I  seated  my- 
self under  one  of  the  arches,  with  my 
head  leaning  on  my  hands.  I  believe 
that  I  wept. 

Suddenly  gay  voices  were  heard  out- 
side the  ruins.  They  jested  and  laughed. 
It  was  a  party  who  came  to  visit  this 
abode  of  crushed  greatness. 

I  drew  back  in  the  darkest  corner,  to 
avoid  being  observed. 

The  merry  company  came  nearer.  I 
could  distinguish  what  was  said. 

"  Do  not  ask  me  to  venture  up  there," 
uttered  a  ringing  woman's  voice.  "  You 
others  may  do  it  if  you  choose ;  but  I, 
for  my  part,  remain  here." 

"  As  you  will,  Clothilda,"  said  another 
woman's  voice.  "  I  shall  go  there,  that 
is  certain." 

"  And  I  with  you,"  responded  several 
others. 


"  With  your  permission,  ladies,  I  will 
stay  here  with  Fraulein  Clothilda,"  said  a 
voice  which  caused  me  to  start.  It  was 
Gerhard's. 

"  Ah  yes,  why  not1?"  answered  the  ring- 
ing voice  ;  "  it  may  be  right  well  to  have 
a  cavalier  who  had  his  origin  in  this  cas- 
tle, at  one's  side.  You  may  stay." 

I  saw  the  rest  of  the  party  hasten  by 
on  their  way  to  the  platform. 

Leaning  against  the  wall  with  a  beat- 
ing heart,  I  waited  for  the  moment  when 
the  sound  of  their  steps  should  die  away, 
that  I  might  be  able  to  distinguish  what 
was  said  by  these  two  who  remained  at 
the  foot  of  the  ruin. 

At  length  I  caught  a  few  words.  They 
were  uttered  by  Gerhard  in  the  impas- 
sioned tone  peculiar  to  him,  — 

"  I  conjure  you,  Clothilda,  not  to  fool 
with  me  any  longer,  there  must  be  an 
end  to  this  play.  You  do  not  know  with 
what  a  disposition  you  have  to  deal." 

"Possibly;  but  I  know  that  you  are 
said  to  be  betrothed  to  a  girl  down  there 
in  the  valley." 

Breathless  I  awaited  Gerhard's  answer. 
It  soon  came.  He  declared  with  the 
most  solemn  assurances  that  it  was  not 
he,  but  his  brother  who  was  betrothed ; 
that  he  had  never  loved  any  one  before 
her ;  that  the  girl  she  spoke  of  was  so 
simple  that  he  could  not  for  an  instant 
think  of  marrying  her,  etc. 

Gerhard  actually  succeeded  in  convin- 
cing this  Clothilda  that  she  was  his  first 
and  only  love,  and  that  life  without  her 
would  be  a  burden  which  he  could  not 
bear. 

I  heard  Clothilda  say  in  a  somewhat 
unsteady  voice  that  he  should  have  her 
answer  in  the  morning. 

Those  who  had  been  up  on  the  plat- 
form now  returned,  and  they  all  went 
away. 

I  remained  sitting  in  my  corner,  and 
repeated  incessantly  to  myself,  — 

"How  much  alike  were  my  mother's 
destiny  and  mine." 


144 


A  REMINISCENCE   OF  KREUZNACH. 


It  was  late  when  I  returned  to  our 
valley,  and  yet  I  found  only  Aunt  at  home. 

Uncle  had  ridden  away  in  the  after- 
noon, and  had  not  yet  come  back.  To 
go  to  rest  before  he  was  home,  I  could  not. 
It  was  midnight  when  I  saw  a  boat  glide 
across  the  river ;  it  was  Uncle.  With  slow 
and  weary  steps  he  ascended  the  path 
which  led  from  the  shore  to  our  dwelling. 

I  went  to  meet  him  with  an  oppressed 
heart.  When  he  saw  me  he  sighed  deep- 
ly, clasped  me  silently  to  his  breast,  and 
murmured,  — 

"To-morrow,  to-morrow  we  will  talk 
together." 

The  night  was  long ;  but  yet  it  had  a 
morning. 

At  the  first  rays  of  the  sun  I  was 
down  in  the  saloon  to  wait  for  Uncle; 
but  to  my  surprise  I  found  him  already 
there,  walking  restlessly  back  and  forth. 
When  I  went  in  he  stretched  out  his 
arms  to  me,  exclaiming,  — 

"  My  poor  child,  can  you  forgive  your 
old  Uncle  for  all  the  suffering  you  are 
obliged  to  endure,  for  all  the  sorrow  his 
sons  have  heaped  upon  your  innocent 
head?" 

I  threw  my  arms  around  his  neck  and 
burst  into  tears. 

When  we  had  both  calmed  ourselves, 
Uncle  told  me  that  he  had  received  a 
letter  the  day  before  which  induced  him 
to  go  to  town  in  quest  of  Gerhard.  A 
conversation  had  taken  place  between 
father  and  son  with  reference  to  the  let- 
ter, the  contents  of  which  Uncle  did  not 
touch  more  closely. 

Gerhard  acknowledged  to  his  father 
that  he  was  in  love  with  a  young  lady 
from  Berlin,  who  was  staying  in  Kreuz- 
nach  with  some  relatives.  He  said  that 
his  future  happiness  and  welfare  depend- 
ed upon  Clothilda  Wern;  that  was  the 
young  lady's  name. 

The  father  had,  after  this  declaration 
of  his  son,  forbidden  him  to  return  home. 
Uncle  did  not  wish  to  have  anything 
more  to  do  with  him. 


In  vain  did  I  implore  Uncle  to  forgive 
him.  In  vain  did  I  declare  that  what 
had  happened  was  the  happiest  for  us 
all.  The  only  answer  of  the  irritated 
father  was,  — 

"  He  shall  never  come  under  my  roof. 
He  has  made  himself  unworthy  to  be 
called  my  son." 

The  day  after  this,  Gerhard's  things 
were  sent  to  Kreuznach,  together  with 
the  direction  for  him  to  draw  a  sum  of 
money  corresponding  to  the  inheritance 
that  he  might  expect  after  his  father's 
death. 

A  week  after  this  arrangement,  we  re- 
ceived the  intelligence  that  Gerhard  had 
left  Kreuznach  and  gone  to  Berlin  to 
marry  Clothilda  Wern. 

A  few  weeks  more  and  Gerhard  was 
married. 

Ever  since  the  night  when  Uncle  re- 
turned from  Kreuznach,  it  seemed  to  me 
that  his  form  had  become  more  bent,  his 
walk  slower,  and  his  hair  more  gray.  It 
was  as  if  his  son's  behavior  rested  heavi- 
ly on  his  shoulders. 

We  read  and  walked  together,  just  as 
before,  but  we  were  no  longer  glad ;  we 
were  silent  and  sorrowful. 

One  day,  it  was  towards  fall,  as  he 
and  I  were  sitting  outside  our  dwelling 
and  I  read  aloud,  we  heard  quick  steps 
approaching  by  the  path  which  led  from 
the  river. 

I  looked  up.  Uncle  also  turned  his 
head. 

The  steps  quickened  and  came  still 
nearer.  The  advancing  guest  was  now 
at  the  turn  of  the  path,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  Rolf  stood  before  us. 

Our  joy  can  be  easily  imagined. 

In  the  first  moments  we  had  no  mind 
for  anything  but  the  delight  of  seeing 
each  other  again.  When  this  had  some- 
what abated  and  I  could  look  at  Rolf 
with  tear-drenched  eyes,  his  face  seemed 
to  me  considerably  changed. 

The  former  mild  and  earnest  expres- 
sion had  gone  over  to  a  stern  one,  and 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH. 


145 


there  was  something  cold  and  hard  in 
these  features,  which  before  spoke  of  so 
much  goodness. 

Life  is  a  continual  ebb  and  flow  of  joy 
or  sorrow. 

When  the  earth  was  again  clad  in  the 
robes  of  spring,  Rolf  and  I  knelt  before 
the  altar,  and  the  priest  pronounced  a 
blessing  over  our  heads. 

When  we  left  the  church  we  were  one 
before  God  and  man,  and  one  in  our 
hearts;  so  I  believed,  as  with  a  heart 
full  of  the  bliss  love  bestows  I  looked 
forward  to  the  future. 

Forgotten  were  the  sorrows,  griefs,  and 
sufferings  I  had  endured,  and  life  seemed 
so  bright  and  smiling. 

Yet  my  happiness  was  a  dream  which 
was  never  to  be  realized. 

In  a  few  months  after  my  marriage  I 
perceived  that  the  affection  Rolf  cher- 
ished for  me  was  no  longer  the  same  as 
before.  The  calm,  always  warm-hearted 
Rolf  had  become  uneven  in  disposition, 
sometimes  hasty,  and  often  unjust. 

If  I  spoke  of  how  dear  he  was  to  me, 
his  brow  became  clouded,  and  he  pressed 
a  cold  kiss  upon  mine,  saying  in  a  com- 
passionate tone,  — 

"  Poor  child  !  " 

If  I  caressed  him,  he  pushed  me  gen- 
tly from  him  with  the  words,  — 

"Your  good  heart,  Selma,  never  de- 
nies itself." 

If  I  tried  to  surprise  him  with  some- 
thing that  I  knew  would  please  him,  he 
said,  — 

"  Thank  you,  Selma,  you  are  an  atten- 
tive wife,  and  do  everything  to  fulfil  your 
duty." 

When  I  asked  him  why  he  was  so 
changed,  he  looked  at  me  and  replied,  — 

"  Selma,  do  not  ask  such  questions, 
they  do  not  become  you.  You  know 
best  yourself  that  we  are  both  changed." 

In  vain  did  I  exert  myself  to  discover 
the  reason  of  this  lack  of  real  warmth. 
I  could  not  find  it. 

That   his   singular  behavior  did  not 


come  from  extinguished  love,  I  thought 
I  could  conclude  from  the  fact  that  there 
were  sometimes  moments  when  he  showed 
me  an  almost  passionate  tenderness ;  but 
even  at  these  moments  there  was  some- 
thing painful  in  the  expression  of  his  face. 

I  suffered,  without  daring  to  complain ; 
for  I  trembled  at  everything  that  could 
awaken  his  displeasure,  because  this  was 
easily  called  forth,  but  hard  to  subdue. 
I  feared  his  anger,  whom  in  younger 
years  I  had  never  seen  irritated. 

Before  we  were  married  I  had  spoken 
with  him  about  Gerhard,  spoken  frankly 
and  unreservedly  about  my  feelings.  He 
listened  to  me  in  silence,  and  when  I 
finished  he  said,  — 

"  Selma,  I  will  ask  one  thing  of  you." 

"And  that  is?" 

"That  you  promise  me  not  to  speak 
of  Gerhard.  It  pains  me  severely  to  hear 
you  talk  about  him,  as  you  have  now 
done." 

It  could  of  course  not  enter  my  mind 
after  this  request  to  speak  either  of  Ger- 
hard or  of  anything  which  had  reference 
to  him.  Neither  could  it  be  supposed 
that  Rolfs  changed  behavior  had  any 
connection  with  this ;  but  I  sought  the 
cause  of  it  elsewhere,  without  finding  it. 

Uncle,  who  never  heard  an  unfriendly 
word  exchanged  between  Rolf  and  me, 
considered  us  happy,  and  we  carefully 
concealed  from  him  that  this  happiness 
existed  only  in  his  imagination. 

Gerhard  had  disappeared ;  he  was  not 
mentioned  by  any. 

Rolf  and  I  had  been  married  two  years, 
when  I  became  the  mother  of  a  son, 
whose  birth  nearly  cost  me  my  life. 

Never  shall  I  forget  the  loving  care 
with  which  Rolf  tended  me  during  my 
illness.  In  every  look,  every  gesture,  I 
read  how  I  was  loved;  but  when  I  be- 
came well  again,  he  drew  back,  as  if 
afraid  of  troubling  me. 

I  cannot  describe  how  bitterly  I  suf- 
fered from  this;  for  I  now  missed  his 
love  so  much  the  more. 


146 


A  REMINISCENCE  OP  KREUZNACH. 


If  Rolf  had  not  been  a  loving  son  and 
father,  I  might  possibly  have  become 
reconciled  to  his  hard,  bitter,  and  pas- 
sionate behavior  towards  me,  for  I  should 
then  have  considered  it  as  something 
belonging  to  his  character;  but  when 
I  thought  of  how  he  had  formerly  been, 
how  he  was  to  his  child  and  his  father, 
I  found  it  xmnatural  that  he  should  seem 
to  deny  his  usual  character  to  me  alone. 

Again  a  year  passed.  My  little  boy's 
birthday  drew  near ;  and  as  he  was  born 
on  the  same  day  as  his  father,  I  wished 
to  celebrate  this  double  anniversary  by 
having  a  miniature  painted  of  myself 
and  enclosed  in  a  beautiful  locket  to- 
gether with  a  lock  of  my  son's  hair,  and 
this  present  I  intended  to  let  the  little 
one  give  his  father. 

I  hoped  through  this  gift  from  my 
child  to  gain  an  opportunity  of  bringing 
Rolf  to  an  explanation,  which  should  at 
last  put  an  end  to  the  tension  between  us. 

I  had  taken  several  journeys  into  town 
for  this  picture  while  my  husband  was  in 
Bingen.  When  he  came  home  and  learned 
from  the  servants  that  I  had  been  to 
town  several  times,  he  reproached  me  for 
it  with  an  anger  which  seemed  almost 
inconsiderate. 

He  accused  me  of  an  utter  lack  of 
frankness,  and  declared  that  this  fault  of 
mine  would  lead  to  misery. 

Without  giving  me  time  to  defend  my- 
self, he  went  off  after  making  all  these 
charges. 

This  little  scene  took  place  on  the 
morning  before  his  birthday.  At  noon 
I  received  the  locket  with  my  picture  by 
a  messenger  from  the  town. 

Although  the  joy  I  expected  from  this 
gift  was  embittered  through  Rolfs  in- 
justice, I  consoled  myself  with  the 
thought  that  he  would  the  next  day, 
when  he  learned  the  reason  of  my  jour- 
neys to  town  during  his  absence,  make 
amends  for  his  hasty  words. 

It  drew  towards  night ;  but  Rolf  did 
not  return.  -  ,  <  : 


I  sat  by  my  child's  cradle,  listening 
for  the  sound  of  his  father's  step. 

Suddenly  a  hasty  tread  was  heard  ap- 
proaching the  door  of  our  bedroom. 

I  sprang  up  to  meet  Rolf;  but  re- 
mained standing  motionless,  as  if  petri- 
fied. Before  me  stood  Gerhard. 

He  was  pale  and  looked  disturbed. 
Frightened,  I  shrunk  back. 

The  next  instant  he  lay  at  my  feet, 
entreating  my  forgiveness  for  what  he 
had  done. 

He  was  miserable,  —  miserable  because 
he  had  wished  to  promote  my  happiness, 
and  for  this  object  had  represented  him- 
self to  me  as  fickle  and  drawn  down  his 
father's  anger  and  his  brother's  con- 
tempt. He  had  never  loved  any  one 
but  me ;  he  loved  me  still  with  undimin- 
ished  strength ;  and  he  had  come  once 
more  to  speak  out  the  feelings  of  his 
heart  and  implore  me  to  effect  his  father's 
forgiveness. 

I  promised  to  do  what  I  was  able  if 
he  would  only  go  away,  and  I  said  that  I 
would  talk  with  Rolf;  but  then  he  en- 
treated me  in  tears  not  to  mention  his 
name  to  Rolf  until  I  had  obtained  his  fa- 
ther's pardon.  He  conjured  me  by  all 
that  was  holy,  if  I  did  not  wish  to  make 
him  perfectly  miserable  for  his  whole 
life. 

In  my  anxiety  lest  he  should  not  go,  I 
promised  him,  and  now  for  the  first  time 
he  rose. 

He  remained  standing  before  me.  His 
look  had  something  singular,  and  I  felt 
quite  frightened  when  he  seized  my  hand 
and  said,  — 

"Selma,  I  cannot  depart,  unless  you 
are  able  to  save  me  from  the  conse- 
quences of  an  act  which  I  have  commit- 
ted under  the  burden  of  my  unhappy 
marriage.  I  have  gambled,  Selma,  and 
if  I  do  not  pay  my  debt  to-morrow  before 
noon,  I  am  disgraced,  my  name  branded, 
and  with  this  all  possibility  of  obtaining 
my  father's  pardon  is  gone.  Selma,  at 
this  moment  you  have  more  than  my 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KKEUZNACH. 


147 


life,  you  have  my  honor  in  your  hands. 
Will  you  save  it  1 " 

"  If  I  can,"  I  stammered,  and  requested 
to  know  the  sum. 

It  amounted  to  just  what  I  had  that 
morning  received  from  Uncle  as  my  pin- 
money  for  the  year,  and  which  I  had  al- 
ways since  my  earliest  youth  drawn  on 
the  first  of  July. 

Without  hesitating  for  a  moment  I 
hastened  to  give  hint  the  money,  and  he 
then  left. 

The  night  passed  and  also  my  son's 
and  his  father's  birthday,  without  Rolf 
being  seen. 

In  my  anxiety  I  sent  a  messenger  into 
town  to  find  out  if  any  accident  had  hap- 
pened to  my  husband ;  but  the  man  re- 
turned with  the  intelligence  that  he  had 
left  Kreuznach  the  previous  afternoon 
and  gone  to  Wiesbaden. 

Late  in  the  evening  of  the  day  in 
which  I  had  hoped  through  the  gift  of 
my  picture  to  effect  some  change  in  our 
constrained  relation,  he  came  home.  I 
sprang  to  meet  him,  after  the  anxiety  I 
had  undergone,  to  throw  myself  in  his 
arms ;  but  he  pushed  me  hastily  from 
him,  saying,  — 

"  Spare  us  both  the  infliction  of  any 
demonstrations  of  affection.  Where  is 
my  father1?  Has  he  been  uneasy  over 
my  long  stay?"  And  without  waiting 
for  an  answer  he  hastened  by  me  to  find 
the  old  man. 

It  was  very  late  when  he  entered  our 
bedroom.  I  sat  rocking  my  son. 

His  glance  fell  upon  me  immediately, 
and  he  frowned  with  anger  as  he  said 
quite  harshly,  — 

"  Why  have  you  not  retired  1 " 

"  Because  I  wished  to  embrace  you  on 
your  birthday  and  explain  the  reason 
why  I  went  to  Kreuznach  during  your 
absence.  Ah,  Rolf,  it  has  pained  me 
that  I  awakened  your  displeasure  by  so 
doing,  when  I  wished  to  afford  you,  as  I 
believed,  a  glad  surprise." 

"  Indeed,  you  are  very  good !,"  rejoined 


Rolf  bitterly  :  "  and  you  know  how  to  put 
your  words  so  that  one  might  be  deceived 
by  them.  You  are  a  formidable  woman, 
Selma,"  added  he,  and  turned  away  from 
me. 

"Rolf,"  I  exclaimed,  "what  is  your 
intention  in  telling  me  this?  What 
wrong  have  I  done  you  ?  " 

"  What  have  you  done  ? "  repeated  he, 
looking  at  me ;  "  and  you  dare  to  ask 
that  ?"  He  drew  an  e"tui  from  his  breast- 
pocket, adding  :  "  You  have  not  only  be- 
trayed the  faith  you  owed  me,  even  when 
you  did  not  give  me  your  heart,  but 
you  have  recklessly  thrown  your  hon- 
or and  mine  into  the  hands  of  a 
madman.  Therefore  take  back  the 
souvenir  that  you  sent  him ;  you  can 
thank  your  husband  for  sparing  you  the 
humiliation  of  being  in  the  mouths  of  all 
the  idlers  at  Wiesbaden.  I  have  for  the 
present  saved  your  honor  and  my  own  at 
the  same  time,  but  do  not  count  upon 
my  doing  it  again  !  " 

He  hastened  towards  the  door. 

"Rolf,  Rolf,  hear  me  ! "  But  he  did 
not  listen ;  he  was  gone. 

I  went  to  open  the  e"tui.  It  was  my 
miniature,  enclosed  in  a  locket,  and  ex- 
actly like  the  one  I  had  had  painted  for 
Rolf.  On  the  edge  of  the  case  stood, 
"  From  Selma  to  Gerhard." 

Perfectly  beside  myself,  I  raised  the 
lid  of  my  chiffonier  to  see  if  my  locket 
had  been  stolen ;  but  no,  it  was  there 
and  was  precisely  like  the  one  Rolf  had 
thrown  to  me. 

Although  inexperienced  in  life's  in- 
trigues, I  saw  that  it  would  be  difficult 
to  justify  myself.  The  artist  who  had 
painted  the  miniature,  and  who  was  the 
only  one  who  could  testify  that  I  had  or- 
dered but  one  likeness,  had  left  Kreuz- 
nach the  same  day  I  paid  him  for  it. 
He  had  also  the  care  of  the  setting. 
There  was  thus  no  way  of  proving  that  I 
was  innocent. 

I  lay  awake  and  cried  the  whole  night. 

Rolf  was  away  all  the  next  day.     He 


148 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KRETJZNACH. 


only  came  homo  towards  evening.  I 
had  seated  myself  on  a  bench  outside  our 
dwelling  to  force  him  to  a  conversation. 

When  he  saw  me  his  eyes  flashed.  I 
went  to  him,  saying,  — 

"  I  demand  of  you,  as  a  right-minded 
man,  to  stay  and  hear  me.  You  have 
made  a  hard  accusation  against  me,  and 
you  cannot  refuse  to  let  me  give  you  an 
explanation. 

In  silence  Rolf  seated  himself  on  the 
bench  I  had  just  left.  He  crossed  his 
arms  over  his  breast,  as  if  he  wished  to 
indicate  by  this  motion  that  he  waited 
for  what  I  had  to  say. 

I  sat  down  on  the  turf  at  his  feet. 
With  calmness  I  related  that  I  had  en- 
gaged a  ti'avelling  artist  to  paint  my 
miniature,  which  I  intended  to  give  him. 
I  told  him  that  the  picture  he  had 
thrown  to  me  was  something  of  which 
I  had  no  knowledge,  and  I  asked  him 
how  it  was  possible  for  him  to  believe 
that  I  betrayed  him  in  any  respect." 

When  I  finished,  a  deep  sigh  heaved 
his  breast.  Without  looking  at  me,  he 
said,  — 

"  If  I  should  believe  you,  how  would 
you  then  explain  the  fact  that  Gerhard 
came  in  possession  of  this  likeness  ?  He 
has  not  stayed  in  Kreuznach,  and  did. 
not  know  that  you  were  going  to  have 
your  picture  taken.  He  has  thus  not 
been  able  to  have  any  copy  made,  and 
besides,  why  should  he  do  it  1 " 

"Rolf!  Gerhard  has  been  in  Kreuz- 
nach ! "  I  exclaimed  involuntarily. 

"Has  he?"  returned  Rolf  hastily; 
"  and  this  •  you  have  known  and  con- 
cealed from  me  1  Ah  !  you  have  perhaps 
met  him  when  you  went  for  a  sitting. 
I  suspected  something  of  the  kind  !  " 

"0  my  God,  Rolf,  how  you  talk! 
Have  I  ever  lied  to  you  or  deceived 
you  1 " 

"Not  that  I  can  prove,"  answered 
Rolf,  smiling  bitterly ;  "  there  is  really  a 
great  difference  between  concealing  the 
truth  and  uttering  a  falsehood.  Yet 


the  deceit  is  just  as  great  if  I  conceal 
the  truth,  as  if  I  denied  it.  You  have 
concealed  that  you  met  Gerhard,  and 
you  do  not  consider  this  a  deception." 

In  spite  of  all  the  unjust  charges  he 
made  me,  I  did  not  become  angry.  I 
only  felt  deeply  troubled,  and  with  the 
firmest  persuasion  that  I  could  remove 
the  misunderstanding  between  us,  I  told 
him  of  Gerhard's  appearance  and  his  re- 
quest that  I  would  try  to  induce  his 
father  to  pardon  him. 

Rolf  listened  to  me  without  once  in- 
terrupting ;  but  I  read  in  his  face  with 
a  feeling  of  despair  that  I  had  not  suc- 
ceeded in  subduing  the  doubts  in  his 
soul.  *• 

I  received  during  these  agonizing  mo- 
ments the  bitter  lesson  that  when  dis- 
trust and  suspicion  have  gained  a  foothold 
in  the  heart,  they  remain  there  and  are 
not  so  easily  removed. 

When  my  account  was  ended,  Rolf 
stroked  his  brow  with  his  hand,  mur- 
muring, — 

"  But  the  locket,  how  will  you  explain 
that?  Yet,  what  use  is  it  to  talk  of 
this  ?  Were  you  guilty,  you  would  deny 
it.  I  will  believe  that  you  are  pure  as 
far  as  your  actions  are  concerned,  al- 
though everything  speaks  against  you." 

He  rose,  adding  with  vehemence,  — 

"  I  must  find  out  whether  ^ou  or  he 
deceive  me,  even  if  I  should  be  compelled 
to  travel  around  the  earth  to  hunt  up 
the  artist  who  painted  these  portraits." 

Rolf  went  in  to  his  father. 

In  a  few  days  my  husband  went  away. 

This  journey  was  occasioned  by  a  let- 
ter which  came  quite  unexpectedly.  That 
the  cause  was  not  pleasant,  I  could  con- 
clude from  Uncle's  sad  appearance. 

When  Rolf  kissed  me  in  farewell,  his 
expression  was  milder  than  it  had  been 
for  a  long  time,  and  he  looked  me  in  the 
eyes,  saying,  — 

"0,  that  I  could  believe  in  your  af- 
fection ! " 

"  You  can,  RolfZ  I  replied,  and  looked 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH. 


149 


up  at  him ;  "  my  heart,  my  whole  soul 
and  every  thought,  belongs  to  you." 

He  released  me  and  sighed. 

"You  distrust  my  assurance.  Rolf, 
is  there  then  nothing  in  my  glance,  my 
voice,  my  actions,  which  tells  you  that 
I  speak  the  truth  1 " 

He  looked  long  at  me  and  kissed  me 
once  more,  saying,  — 

"  I  will  and  shall  believe  you.  You 
were  worse  than  a  Devil  if  you  could 
deceive  me  with  that  expression  of  truth 
in  your  eyes." 

Two  weeks  fled,  and  yet  we  could  not 
expect  Rolf  back.  He  had  written  to 
Uncle.  The  contents  of  the  letter  seemed 
only  to  increase  the  sorrow  that  was 
apparent  in  the  old  man's  face.  I  also 
obtained  a  few  friendly  lines  from  him. 

The  same  day  that  Rolf  went  away, 
a  letter  arrived  from  Gerhard  to  me. 
This  was  followed  by  others,  all  written 
in  an  agitated  and  impassioned  tone. 

I  made  several  attempts  to  lead  the 
conversation  upon  Gerhard,  when  Uncle 
and  I  were  alone ;  but  the  old  man 
interrupted  me  abruptly,  and  I  had  never 
more  than  time  to  mention  Gerhard's 
name  before  he  hindered  me  from  con- 
tinuing. 

Finally  a  letter  came  from  Gerhard,  in 
which  he  declared  that  if  he  did  not  hear 
from  me  within  a  week  and  learn  whether 
his  father  had  forgiven  him,  his  despair 
would  drive  him  to  put  an  end  to  his 
life. 

This  letter  arrived  in  the  evening, 
after  Uncle  had  gone  to  his  own  room. 

I  resolved  to  speak  seriously  with  Ger- 
hard's father  the  following  day,  without 
allowing  myself  to  be  deterred.  I  was 
just  considering  what  I  ought  to  say 
to  the  advantage  of  one  who  had 
been  the  cause  of  so  much  harm  to  me, 
when  I  heard  steps  in  the  saloon.  I 
hastened  to  the  door  to  open  it,  thinking 
that  Rolf  had  possibly  returned. 

I  was  mistaken,  it  was  Gerhard. 

I  became  so  frightened  at  the  sight  of 


him,  that  I  almost  uttered  an  exclama- 
tion; but  he  seized  me  quickly  by  the 
arm,  whispering,  — 

"Make   no   noise,    I   must    speak   to 

you." 

The  scene  which  followed  was  such 
that  it  could  only  have  been  enacted  by 
Gerhard. 

He  painted  in  the  most  glowing  colors 
how  unhappy  he  had  been,  and  how 
deeply  he  loved  me.  He  begged  in  tears 
that  I  would  give  him  the  consolation 
for  all  that  he  had  suffered  of  seeing  his 
father  again. 

He  spoke  with  all  the  extravagance 
of  feeling,  and  when  I  would  have 
fled  in  my  fright,  he  held  me,  still  ex- 
claiming, — 

"  One  of  the  two,  your  love  or  my  fa- 
ther's forgiveness  must  you  give  me." 

"All  that  I  am  able  to  do  to  recon- 
cile you  with  your  father  I  will,"  an- 
swered I,  and  tried  to  get  my  hand  loose. 
He  let  go  of  it,  but  at  the  same  instant 
threw  his  arms  around  me,  and  with  his 
eyes  fastened  on  the  door,  exclaimed,  — 

"Beloved,  adored  Selma,  you  restore 
life  to  me  in  allowing  me  to  hope." 

Just  then  I  looked  up.  Right  before 
me  on  the  threshold  stood  Rolf. 

I  uttered  a  cry  of  pain,  and  would  have 
snatched  myself  from  Gerhard's  arms; 
but  he  held  me  tight  as  in  a  vice. 

"  Rolf  ! "  exclaimed  I,  in  despair.  Now 
for  the  first  time  Gerhard  released  me. 
I  sprang  out  into  the  saloon;  it  was 
empty.  I  fancied  that  I  heard  the 
sound  of  steps;  I  started  out  in  the 
darkness  to  follow  them,  but  then  all  be- 
came silent  around  me.  The  night  was 
dark,  I  saw  nothing.  I  listened,  I  called ; 
no  answer ;  and  when  I  returned  to  the 
house,  Gerhard  was  no  longer  there. 
All  that  had  passed  seemed  like  a  dream. 

How  interminably  long  was  the  re- 
mainder of  the  night ! 

The  morning  came,  but  without  shed- 
ding any  light  upon  the  night's  occur- 
rences. I  came  to  the  conclusion  that 


150 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH. 


Rolfs  appearance  had  been  nothing  but 
an  illusion,  and  I  now  resolved  to  put  an 
end  to  Gerhard's  further  appeals  to  me 
by  speaking  to  Uncle  and  effecting  a 
meeting  between  them.  I  knew  that 
Gerhard  was  kept  concealed  by  Aunt 
Monica  in  her  room,  until  I  had  succeed- 
ed in  influencing  his  father  to  allow  him 
to  show  himself.  Aunt  had  informed  me 
of  this  in  the  morning. 

My  situation  was  painful  in  the  ex- 
treme, through  my  fear  that  it  was  Rolf 
I  had  seen  the  night  previous,  and  my 
anxiety  lest  he  should  return  before  Ger- 
hard saw  his  father,  or  that  I  should 
not  succeed  in  bringing  about  this  meet- 
ing. 

With  my  child  in  my  arms  I  went  to 
Uncle,  after  I  had  offered  up  a  fervent 
prayer  to  the  Madonna. 

I  began  to  speak  of  Gerhard. 

Uncle  tried  to  interrupt  me  as  usual ; 
but  I  continued,  and  described  how 
unhappy  his  son  felt  at  being  rejected. 

I  begged  forgiveness  for  his  faults,  and 
tried  to  prove  that  what  he  had  done  to 
me  was  of  such  a  nature  that  it  ought 
never  to  have  excited  his  father's  anger, 
so  that  he  should  forbid  him  to  appear  in 
his  presence.  I  appealed  to  the  father's 
heart,  and  put  the  question  whether  he 
would  not  feel  happier  in  forgiving  than 
in  rejecting. 

After  Uncle  had  once  or  twice  with  a 
stern  voice,  but  in  vain,  tried  to  interrupt 
me,  he  let  me  talk  to  the  end.  When  I 
^nished,  he  raised  his  head,  which  had 
been  leaning  on  his  hands,  rose  and  went 
to  the  chiffonier,  from  which  he  silently 
took  a  letter  and  handed  it  to  me. 

It  was  from  the  judge  of  the  district, 
and  ran  thus: — 

"  ESTEEMED  FRIEND  :  I  think  that  I 
have  found  the  thief  who  stole  the  eight 
thousand  thalers  from  your  sister;  but 
as  I  am  fully  convinced  that  neither  you 
nor  she  will  enforce  the  law  towards  the 
one  who  appropriated,  them,  when  you 


learn  that  it  is  no  other  than  your  son 
Gerhard,  I  consider  it  best  for  you  and 
your  sister  so  to  arrange  the  matter  that 
no  further  search  may  be  instituted. 
This  will  be  very  easy,  if  you  immedi- 
ately call  upon  me  on  receipt  of  my  let- 
ter, when  I  will  explain  to  you  how  I 
came  to  this  discovery.  However  pain- 
ful it  has  been  to  me  to  tell  you  this,  I 
have  nevertheless  been  compelled  to  do 
it,  in  order  to  spare  you  the  humiliation 
of  seeing  your  son  indicted  for  theft. 

"  With  undiminished  respect  and  friend- 
ship, 

"Signed,  etc." 

When  I  finished  the  letter,  Uncle  said 
in  a  steady  voice,  — 

"It  was  this  letter,  not  the  intelli- 
gence that  Gerhard  had  taken  a  fancy  to 
his  present  wife,  which  occasioned  my 
journey  to  Kreuznach.  It  was  this  let- 
ter which  made  me  cast  him  off,  and  pay 
him  all  that  he  should  one  day  inherit.  I 
removed  him  from  all  contact  with  me  ;  I 
did  not  curse  him,  because  as  a  Christian 
I  had  no  right  to  do  it,  but  I  will  not  see 
him.  A  thief  is  not  my  son ;  I  shall 
never,  mark,  Selma,  never  allow  him  to 
cross  my  threshold  or  show  himself  before 
my  eyes  until  he  has  changed  for  the 
better." 

"  But  if  he  has  done  so,  if  he  has  re- 
pented, if —  " 

"  He  has  not,"  exclaimed  the  old  man, 
and  struck  his  hand  violently  on  the 
table. 

"Papa,  beloved  papa,  that  is  some- 
thing you  do  not  know,"  I  replied. 

"  Alas,  I  know  it  too  well.  He  has  so 
acted  towards  me  that  I  am  almost  ru- 
ined. On  false  orders,  signed  with  my 
name,  he  has  drawn  money  from  all  the 
merchants  in  Coblenz,  Bingen,  Kreuz- 
nach, etc.,  w^th  whom  I  had  dealings,  and 
that  to  so  great  an  amount,  that  your 
husband  will  only  with  difficulty  be  able 
to  arrange  matters  so  as  not  to  occasion 
scandal.  I  have  been  obliged,  in  order 


A  REMINISCENCE   OF  KREUZNACH. 


151 


to  cover  my  son's  frauds,  to  sell  my  best 
vineyard  ;  but  not  enough  with  this,  the 
day  before  your  husband  went  away,  I 
received  a  letter  from  Gerhard's  wife,  in 
which  she  begged  me  for  assistance  for 
herself  and  her  child.  He  has  destroyed 
the  little  she  possessed,  and  then  aban- 
doned her.  This  also  will  Eolf  try 
to  arrange,  at  the  sacrifice  of  all  he 
owns  ;  but  when  this  is  accomplished,  it 
is  all  that  I  can  do  for  my  degenerate 
son." 

"  No,  not  all,"  exclaimed  a  voice  from 
che  door,  and  Gerhard  rushed  in.  He 
drew  a  pistol  from  his  pocket  and  added 
with  wild  vehemence  :  "  I  must  have 
two  thousand  thalers,  or  else  I  will  shoot 
myself  through  the  head  before  your 
eyes,  my  father  ! " 

"  Shoot  yourself  then,"  said  the  old 
man  coldly,  "  from  me  you  will  not  get 
a  single  thaler  more." 

I  sat  with  my  back  turned  to  the  door 
and  had  my  child  in  my  lap. 

Gerhard  started  past  me  to  his  father, 
who  was  sitting  opposite.  When  he 
threw  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  latter,  he 
lay  with  his  back  turned  to  me. 

At  Uncle's  words  he  raised  the  pistol 
over  his  head.  I  rose  hastily  with  a  cry 
of  horror.  There  was  a  report,  a  pier- 
cing shriek  from  my  child,  and  I  was 
covered  with  blood." 

Here  Frau  Spindler  paused  and  bur- 
ied her  face  in  her  hands. 

After  a  few  moments  the  unhappy 
mother  resumed. 

The  shot  had  reached  my  little  boy  in 
the  breast.  I  held  his  lifeless  body  in 
my  arms.  Why  I  did  not  fall  dead  to 
the  ground,  I  do  not  comprehend.  Na- 
ture had  given  me  so  strong  a  frame,  that 
I  did  not  even  lose  my  senses,  but  main- 
tained the  full  consciousness  of  my  terri- 
ble misfortune.  • 

Of  what  occurred  around  me  I  have  no 
recollection  ;  I  had  but  one  thought,  — 
that  my  child  was  murdered. 


They  told  me  that  Gerhard  fled  from 
the  room  like  a  maniac. 

Night  came,  without  my  knowing  how 
the  day  had  passed.  At  last  they  tore 
the  little  wounded  corpse  from  my  arms, 
to  bury  it  in  the  churchyard.  All  that 
I  had  left  of  my  child  were  his  clothes 
steeped  in  blood. 

The  day  after  my  little  boy's  burial, 
two  letters  arrived  from  Rolf,  —  one  to 
the  old  father,  who  since  the  calamity  had 
not  left  his  room,  and  one  to  me. 

Mark,  this  dreadful  letter  reached 
me  two  days  after  my  child's  terrible 
end. 

Frau  Spindler  took  from  her  pocket  a 
letter  yellow  with  age  and  stained  with 
tears  ;  she  handed  it  to  me,  saying  :  — 

Read  it  yourself,  I  have  not  strength 
to  read  it  to  you. 

The  letter  ran  :  — 

"  SELMA  :  When  you  receive  this  we 
are  separated  forever.  You  have  your- 
self so  desired  it,  and  I  go  to  free  you 
from  the  presence  of  a  husband  whom 
you  have  deceived,  and  whose  honor  you 
have  violated.  I  will  not  hate,  not  curse 
the  mother  of  my  child  ;  but  I  say,  Woe 
to  the  women  who  like  you  receive  the 
purest,  the  deepest,  and  most  faithful 
love  of  their  husbands,  and  repay  it  with 
deceit  and  infidelity. 

"  I  have  long  known  that  your  heart 
was  attached  to  him  who  is  called  my 
brother ;  I  have  known  that  your  lips 
lied,  when  they  spoke  love  to  me  ;  but  I 
forgave  the  inconstancy  of  your  heart, 
because  it  seemed  to  me  that  you  were 
trying  earnestly  to  conquer  the  feeling 
which  bound  you  to  him.  Yet  I  was 
mistaken.  You  feigned  faithfulness  and 
love  of  duty  in  order  to  deceive  me  so 
much  the  easier ;  and  I  have  still,  after 
he  gave  me  undoubted  proofs  of  your 
faithlessness,  allowed  myself  to  be  de- 
luded by  your  words  and  to  believe  your 
assurances. 


152 


"  I  will  spare  myself  the  pain  of  con- 
vincing you  that  you  have  deceived  me ; 
you,  the  humiliation  of  standing  as  an 
adulteress  before  your  child's  father  ;  and 
the  old  man,  the  sorrow  of  having  in 
you  nourished  a  serpent  in  his  bosom. 
Therefore  must  we  separate. 

"  This  is  not  a  punishment,  but  a  ne- 
cessity. Punish  you,  I  cannot ;  and  yet 
when  I  think  how  you  cheated  me  in  the 
last  moment,  I  feel  anger  and  rage  boiling 
in  my  soul. 

"  What  solemn  assurances  did  you  not 
give  me  when  I  was  compelled  to  leave 
home,  and  what  did  I  find  at  my  return  1 
My  wife  in  my  brother's  arms  ! 

"  You  saw  me,  Selma,  and  you  under- 
stood that  we  saw  each  other  for  the  last 
time.  Had  the  old  man,  already  so  af- 
flicted by  sorrow,  not  lived,  I  would 
have  sundered  the  bonds  which  unite  us, 
taken  my  child  from  an  unworthy  moth- 
er, and  carried  it  with  me  in  my  exile. 
Now  I  say,  God  preserve  me  from  aug- 
menting my  father's  grief ! .  May  he  live 
in  ignorance  of  the  fact  that  one  brother 
has  robbed^the  other  of  his  happiness ; 
that  the  girl  whom  he  fostered  with  so 
much  tenderness  has  been  treacherous 
to  duty,  conscience,  and  honor ;  this  I 
desire  with  all  my  soul. 
j  "  I  ought  to  have  distrusted  one  who 
even  at  our  first  betrothal  day  deceived 
me  and  did  not  mention  the  amour  she 
had  entered  into  with  my  brother ;  but  I 
loved,  and  I  failed  to  see  that  duplicity 
was  concealed  behind  the  mask  of  inno- 
cence. You  have  punished  me  in  a  fear- 
ful manner  for  my  credulity. 

"  See  that  you  now,  when  you  have 
separated  the  child  from  the  father,  the 
son  from  the  old  man  on  the  brink  of 
the  grave,  awake  to  the  sense  of  what 
you  owe  your  child  and  the  one  who 
brought  you  up.  Remember,  that  you 
will  be  accountable  to  God  for  Rolfs 
son," 

After  I  had  read  the  letter,  I  handed  it 


in  silence  to  Frau  Spindler,  who  resumed 
her  narrative. 

What  to  this  moment  I  cannot  un- 
derstand is,  why  I  did  not  become  in- 
sane ;  but  as  I  said,  my  physique  was 
strong.  I  neither  fell  ill  nor  lost  my 
reason.  I  remained  with  the  full  con- 
sciousness of  my  misery,  and  prayed  with 
all  the  strength  of  my  soul.  I  had  not 
even  tears  to. give  vent  to  the  depth  of 
agony  and  despair  within  me. 

Completely  crushed,  I  sat  hour  after 
hour  with  this  letter  before  me.  I  was 
thus  not  miserable  enough  through  the 
terrible  death  of  my  child,  but  I  needed 
this  addition  to  my  misfortune. 

Towards  evening  Uncle  sent  for  me.  I 
had  not  seen  him  since  my  child  waa 
reached  by  Gerhard's  bullet. 

The  summons  from  Uncle  roused  me 
from  the  trance  of  crushing  grief  in  which 
I  was  sunk,  and  a  voice  in  my  heart 
whispered,  — 

"  The  old  man,  what  shall  become  of 
him,  he  the  father  of  my  husband,  and 
my  child's  murderer  1 "  V 

The  next  moment  I  entered  his  room. 
He  sat  as  usual  in  his  easy-chair.  His 
appearance  was  so  changed  that  I  fell  at 
his  feet  and  burst  into  tears. 

With  Uncle  were  Father  Lorenzo  and 
Aunt  Monica. 

Uncle  clasped  me  tightly  to  his  breast. 
None  of  us  were  able  to  speak,  but  our 
tears  alone  had  to  interpret  all  that  we 
felt. 

Father  Lorenzo  was  the  one  who  first 
broke  silence.  He  spoke  mild  and  lov- 
ing words  to  us.  He  spoke  as  a  Chris- 
tian priest  ought  to  speak  to  those  deep- 
ly troubled. 

The  words  fell  like  balm  on  the  soul's 
wounds.  The  sobbing  ceased,  and  at 
last  Uncle  faltered,  — 

"  Can  you  keep  from  cursing  the  un- 
happy man  ] " 

"Uncle,  he  is  your  son,"  was  my  an- 
swer. 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH. 


153 


In  a  few  moments  Father  Lorenzo  im- 
parted to  me  the  contents  of  Eolf  s  letter 
to  his  father. 

Rolf  informed  him  that  in  redeeming 
the  notes  Gerhard  had  made  out  in  his 
father's  name,  he  had  expended  all  theu 
ready  money.  Of  all  Uncle's  property 
there  now  remained  only  the  revenue 
from  the  little  ground  and  the  vineyard 
which  formerly  belonged  to  my  parents. 
Still  Rolf  hoped  that  it  would  suffice  for 
our  support.  He  had  resolved  to  go  to 
the  New  World  to  endeavor  to  build  up  a 
fortune  for  himsqlf  and  family,  and  in 
this  way  replace  what  his  brother  had 
squandered.  The  letter  to  his  father 
was  calm  and  loving.  He  begged  him  to 
take  tender  care  of  me  and  his  son,  and 
said  in  conclusion  that  he  had  long  ago 
decided  to  go  to  America  in  order  to 
make  himself  a  rich  man,  and  as  such  re- 
turn home. 

After  this  day,  weeks  and  months  of 
dreary  sorrow  followed. 

No  further  letter  was  received  from 
Rolf.  We  could  not  write  to  him,  be- 
cause we  did  not  know  where  to  address 
the  letter. 

Half  a  year  after  my  child's  death,  we 
were  met  by  a  new  misfortune.  My  un- 
cle became  blind.  Another  half-year, 
and  he  slumbered  under  the  same  turf 
as  his  grandson. 

I  was  now  alone  with  Aunt  Monica. 

A  year  had  gone  by  since  Uncle  was 
buried. 

Aunt  Monica  and  I  were  sitting  quite 
alone  one  long  and  rainy  autumn  after- 
noon in  the  room  which  had  formerly 
been  Rolfs  and  my  bedchamber,  when  a 
man's  step  was  heard  in  the  saloon. 

Aunt  Monica  took  the  light  to  see  who 
it  was.  I  went  with  her. 

In  the  middle  of  the  floor  stood  a  man 
enveloped  in  a  ragged  cloak  and  with  his 
hat,  dripping  with  rain,  pressed  down 
over  his  eyes. 

He  carried  something  under  his  cloak. 
When  the  light  fell  on  him,  he  threw  off 


his  hat  and  cloak.  Gerhard  stood  before 
us  with  a  child  in  his  arms.  It  was  a 
little  girl  apparently  about  two  years  old, 
although  she  was  actually  four. 

At  the  sight  of  this  man,  who  had 
robbed  me  of  all,  I  shrunk  back. 

He  spoke. 

The  words  floated  past  my  ears,  with- 
out my  comprehending  them. 

His  wife  was  dead,  he  himself 
changed  into  a  beggar,  and  branded  as 
the  murderer  of  his  brother's  son;  his 
own  child  was  without  name  and  without 
bread.  That  is  what  he  said,  although 
I  did  not  understand  it  at  the  time.  It 
was  for  this  child  he  prayed,  —  prayed 
to  me,  whom  he  had  made  childless.  I 
caught  his  petition,  but  I  was  not  able 
to  answer  or  look  up.  Quite  suddenly  I 
felt  myself  embraced  by  a  pair  of  tender 
arms,  and  a  childish  voice  uttered  in  a 
beseeching  tone,  — 

"  I  am  freezing,  I  am  so  hungry ;  will 
you  not  be  my  mamma  1 " 

In  an  instant  my  arms  were  around 
the  child.  I  clasped  her  to  my  heart. 
This  was  my  answer.  When  I  looked  up, 
Gerhard  was  gone. 

The  child  is  Louise.  Since  then  I  have 
not  heard  anything  of  Gerhard  or  Rolf. 

I  have  tenderly  loved  the  child  the 
All-good  gave  me  in  compensation  for 
what  I  had  lost.  I  have  for  her  sake 
abandoned  our  valley,  over  which  rests 
a  singular  curse,  which  seems  to  make  it 
impossible  for  happiness  to  bloom  there. 

Since  Aunt  Monica's  death,  ten  years 
ago,  we  have  resided  in  Berlin. 

You  have  now  heard  the  history  that 
is  attached  to  the  house  down  there  at 
the  foot  of  the  mountain,  as  you  have 
heard  the  legend  of  Rheingrafenstein. 
Both  are  only  new  evidences  of  the  truth 
that  the  greatest  enemies  of  our  happiness 
are  our  passions.  It  matters  little 
whether  we  live  in  a  cottage  or  in  a  palace, 
in  the  most  solitary  corner  of  the  world 
or  the  largest  of  cities,  if  we  do  not,  wher- 
ever we  are,  teach  ourselves  to  govern 


154 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  KREUZNACH. 


them,  and  to  let  reason,  not  feeling,  de- 
cide upon  our  own  actions  and  those  of 
others. 

Frau  Spindler  ceased  and  I  also  re- 
mained silent. 

From  the  reflections  into  which  we  had 
sunk,  we  were  roused  by  a  voice,  which 
beneath  the  ruins  where  we  sat,  sang,  — 

"Da  drobeu  sassen  sie  allzumal 
Und  zechten  im  alten  Rittersaal  ; 
Die  Fackeln  glanzten  herab  von  Stein 
Und  schimmerten  weit  in  die  Nacht  hinein." 

The  voice  was  trembling  and  uncer- 
tain, but  gave  evidence  that  it  had  once 
been  strong  and  melodious. 

At  the  first  strophe  of  the  song,  Frau 
Spindler  started  and  rose  quickly;  she 
looked  around  her  frightened,  and  mur- 
mured, — 

"  Gretchen ! " 

I  turned  my  head. 

To  the  surprise  of  both  of  us  we  now 
observed  that  we  were  not  alone  on  the 
platform.  Behind  us,  at  the  edge  of  the 
ruins,  sat  a  man. 

When  the  singer  came  nearer,  he  rose, 
and  I  now  recognized  the  Englishman 
who  had  followed  Louise. 

The  one  who  sung  now  stood  on  the 
platform.  It  was  an  old  woman.  She 
stopped  whe>n  she  saw  us  three,  and  re- 
garded Frau  Spindler  with  a  peculiar 
look,  as  if  she  was  searching  her  memo- 
ry. Then  she  smiled  in  a  crazy  way, 
nodded  her  head,  and  said  softly,  — 

"  You  have  done  right  to  come  here. 
Knight  Eberhard  and  the  fair  Adelgunda 
have  been  waiting  for  you,  and  so  has 
he."  At  this  she  pointed  to  the  English- 
man. 

Frau  Spindler's  glance  followed  the 
woman's  direction  involuntarily.  Her 
eyes  and  the  Englishman's  met.  They 
looked  at  each  other  a  full  moment,  and 
then  she  sprang  to  him,  seized  his  arm, 
and  exclaimed  in  a  ,tone  that  resembled 
a  cry  of  joy,  — 

"  Rolf !  " 


He  stretched  out  his  hands  to  her,  and 
she  fell  senseless  in  his  arms. 

The  one  who  had  borne  such  cruel 
sufferings,  without  her  body  taking  the 
least  share  in  them,  now  rested  as  if 
dead  on  the  breast  of  her  regained  hus- 
band. 

He  pressed  her  to  his  heart,  covered 
her  face  with  kisses,  and  called  her  by 
the  tenderest  of  names,  until  she  again 
opened  her  eyes  and  twined  her  arms 
about  his  neck. 

That  afternoon  the  sun's  rays  fell  with 
a  more  than  usually  mild  light  on  Rhein- 
grafenstein.  Two  faithful  and  hard- 
tried  hearts  were  now  found  there,  which 
beat  for  each  other  and  sent  up  a  fervent 
thanksgiving  to  the  Supreme  Being. 

Gretchen  returned  quite  contented 
down  to  the  valley. 

According  to  her  supposition,  the  spir- 
its of  the  beautiful  Adelgunda  and 
Knight  Eberhard  had  again  been  united. 


Two  or  three  days  after  the  above  de- 
scribed occurrence,  I  was  invited  to  Frau 
Spindler's  rooms  and  presented  to  her 
husband,  Rolf  Spindler.  We  ate  dinner 
together. 

Joy  shone  from  the  eyes  of  the  happy 
couple. 

While  we  were  drinking  coffee,  Rolf 
gave  me  some  information  with  regard  to 
Gerhard.  How  he  had  himself  spent 
these  fifteen  years  he  did  not  relate,  only 
that  he  had  resided  in  the  West  Indies 
the  greater  part  of  the  time,  and  had 
many  difficulties  to  encounter  before  he 
was  able  to  earn  money ;  but  that  things 
had  gone  so  well  with  him  for  the  last 
few  years,  that  instead  of  possessing 
nothing,  he  was  now  a  rich  man. 

A  year  ago  he  returned  from  the  West 
Indies  to  England.  He  resolved,  now 
that  he  had  amassed  a  fortune,  to  go 
to  Germany  to  see  his  son  again. 

While  he  was  staying  in  London  on 


155 


business,  it  happened  one  evening,  as  he 
was  returning  to  his  lodgings,  that  a  car- 
riage ran  over  a  beggar  who  was  just 
about  to  enter  Rolfs  gate.  In  his  fall 
the  beggar  had  received  a  cut  in  the 
head,  and  was  carried  senseless  to  the 
porter.  A  surgeon  was  sent  for,  and  in 
the  mean  time  Rolf  and  the  porter  tried 
to  bring  the  poor  wretch  to  conscious- 
ness. 

When  in  these  'efforts  they  pushed 
aside  the  matted  hair  and  washed  his 
face,  a  shudder  went  through  Rolfs 
soul. 

He  contemplated  the  features  so  ru- 
ined by  dissipation  and  misery,  but 
which,  notwithstanding  the  stamp  of 
moral  degradation  imprinted  upon  them, 
still  retained  their  original  regular  beau- 
ty. Rolf  recognized  in  the  unfortunate 
man  his  brother. 

This  discovery  was  no  sooner  made, 
than  he  had  him  carried  up  to  his  own 
apartments,  where  he  was  tended  with 
the  greatest  care.  The  injury  he  had 
received  was,  however,  such  that  the 
physician  gave  no  hope  of  his  recovery. 
During  the  first  twenty-four  hours  the 
sick  man  was  in  so  lamentable  a  condi- 
tion, that  his  pains  entirely  mastered 
him ;  for  not  only  his  head,  but  his 
breast  also,  was  severely  injured.  On 
the  third  day  he  obtained  some  relief; 
and  now  Rolf  revealed  himself  to  his 
brother,  who  could  not  possibly  recognize 
him,  so  changed  was  he,  with  his  dark 
complexion  and  large  beard. 

When  Gerhard  learned  from  the  doc- 
tor that  he  could  not  live,  he  declared 
his  wish  to  confess,  not  to  a  priest,  but 
to  his  deeply  wronged  brother. 

He  mentioned  the  accident  which  had 
cost  Rolf's  son  his  life ;  how  the  father 
from  sorrow  had  first  become  blind  and 
had  then  died.  He  further  acknowledged 
that  he  had  belied  Selma  in  an  abomina- 
ble manner  when  he  conveyed  the  idea 
to  Rolf  that  she  loved  him  (Gerhard). 
He  confessed  that  he  himself  had  had 


the  miniature  painted,  in  order  to 
strengthen  the  likelihood  that  Selma's 
heart  was  his. 

Led  by  an  intense  envy  of  his  broth- 
er, Gerhard  had  a  joy  in  embittering 
his  life.  When  he  discovered  that  he 
had  made  a  poor  affair  in  his  marriage, 
he  hoped  by  exciting  Rolf's  jealousy  to 
occasion  a  break  between  Selma  and  her 
husband  ;  this  would  draw  upon  Rolf  his 
father's  anger,  something  from  which 
Gerhard  considered  that  he  should  derive 
all  possible  advantage,  especially  as  he 
had  already,  in  the  first  year  of  his  mar- 
riage, used  up  all  he  possessed. 

With  his  wife  he  had  not  received 
more  than  a  few  hundred  thalers.  She 
had  fooled  him  with  the  report  that  she 
had  property.  The  little  she  inherited 
from  her  parents  she  had  put  an  end  to 
before  her  marriage. 

Gerhard  had  formed  his  plan  upon  the 
knowledge  of  his  father's  character,  and 
the  certainty  that  the  latter  would  never 
forgive  Rolf  if  he  made  Selma  unhappy. 
He  had  therefore  tried,  through  all  possi- 
ble means,  to  excite  Rolf's  jealousy,  and 
unhappily  succeeded  but  too  well  in  his 
efforts. 

There  is  generally  no  more  thankful 
task  than  to  touch  our  egotism.  It  is 
always  ready  to  come  into  activity. 

After  Gerhard  had  confided  his  child 
to  Selma's  care,  he  went  to  sea,  and  then 
sank  deeper  and  deeper,  until  he  became 
what  he  now  was. 

He  had  learned  by  accident  that  Rolf 
was  in  London,  and  was  just  on  the  point 
of  seeking  his  brother  to  obtain  some 
assistance  when  he  had  the  misfortune 
to  be  run  over. 

After  Gerhard  died,  Rolf  went  to  seek 
his  wife.  He  found  out,  with  much  diffi- 
culty, that  she  was  residing  in  Berlin. 
He  directed  his  course  there,  but  was 
then  met  by  the  intelligence  that  she 
was  in  Kreuznach.  ., 

He  came  to  this  place,  and  resolved 
first  to  observe  Selma  incognito. 


156 


When  we  went  to  Rheiugrafenstein,  he 
had  followed  us  unobserved  there,  to 
make  himself  known  to  his  wife.  He 
had  thus  been  a  listener  to  her  narra- 
tive. 


Two  days  after  the  one  in  which  we 
dined  together,  the  Spindler  family  left 
Kreuznach.  They  intended  first  to  take 
a  journey  to  France,  and  then  to  settle 
down  in  England. 


THE  END 


Cambridge  :  Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 


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